


The Nice and Accurate Proposal

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Human AU, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Some angst, They're real idiots here, but they don't know it, human! aziraphale, human! crowley, soft, they're in love, yes this is a The Proposal (2009) AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 38,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: anthony crowley has two options: be deported back to South Africa or force his kind and soft assistant, aziraphale fell, into marrying him so he can stay in the country. on one hand, being deported maybe wouldn't be so bad, but on the other hand, aziraphale is kind of cute. cue a fake relationship, a whacky family, a cute dog, and a small town that hasn't seen anything like this before.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 308
Kudos: 337
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the proposal is absolutely my favorite rom com, so i figured why not write my first multi-chapter fic as an AU? fic is mostly finished already and i'll be posting updates twice a week (saturdays and wednesdays)! as always comments are super welcome!!! and if you like this, check out my other GO fics. 
> 
> thank you to kaleigh and aeron for putting up with my BULLshit all the time and for helping me make sure this story actually happened

Aziraphale was fucked. Well and truly fucked. 

He was already late, and now he’s gone and spilled tea all over the front of his last clean work shirt. At least he only dropped one of the drinks. As he rode the elevator up to the 11th floor of the Ninth Circle Publishing’s headquarters, he contemplated how on Earth he found himself in this nightmare of a morning. 

The elevator dinged and he bolted off as fast as he could through the cubicles. 

“Hey, Aziraphale!” Eric, the intern, greeted him before checking his watch. “Cutting it kinda close, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, Eric,” Aziraphale retorted. His eyes scanned the little desk clusters for a familiar face aaaaand, bingo. Target spotted. 

“Hastur,” Aziraphale started, calmly. “I need a favor” 

“What for- why are you all covered in tea?” Hastur turned around in his seat and eyed up the brown stain that has now soaked through to Aziraphale’s undershirt. He sniffed. “Is that darjeeling?” 

“I need the shirt off your back, literally,” Aziraphale looked around anxiously, hoping The Demon was still on that call with Jameson. 

“And why would I do that?” Hastur put his hands together like some sort of Bond villain, smile to boot. 

“I’ll do anything. I’ll get you those tickets to that amphibian convention you were talking about the other day,” Aziraphale was getting more anxious by the second. 

“Amphibians, Antiques, and Ammo? Tickets are like £150,” Hastur was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but his beady black eyes were now bright and attentive. He stared at Aziraphale’s face for a few more seconds. “Deal.” 

Aziraphale quickly started unbuttoning his shirt and set the second, unspilled drink down on Hastur’s desk. He didn’t have time to worry about the indecency of getting changed in the middle of a very busy office. Besides, he still had on an undershirt, even if it did have a stain now. 

After he and Hastur switched shirts (God, has this guy  _ ever _ heard of deodorant?), he practically ran up to the big door that read ANTHONY J. CROWLEY and took a deep breath. He could do this, this was just another morning at the office where he’s worked for years now. No use crying over spilled tea. 

He pushed open the door. Anthony Crowley stood by the large, floor-to-ceiling window, and was holding a phone up to his ear and gesticulating wildly. 

_ Ah, still on the call with Jameson, then. _ Aziraphale breathed out, grateful for the few moments to further collect himself. 

Aziraphale studied his boss as he paced back and forth, trying to convince their client that they needed to lean into the vampire stuff if they ever wanted their YA novel to take off. Crowley was dressed impeccably, as he always was. His red hair was coiffed to perfection, he had on a fitted Armani black suit, which highlighted a lean body that he worked very hard to maintain. Because Aziraphale’s job is to know the ins-and-outs of Crowley’s schedule, Aziraphale knew that Crowley worked out for exactly 45 minutes every morning, reading over manuscripts before leaving for the office. He also had on the sunglasses he insisted on wearing, even indoors. 

Aziraphale looked down at his own body. He was wearing Hastur’s light green button up, which was a little too tight and smelled of onion, beige trousers, and loafers that had been worn down almost enough that the sole was pretty much non-existent. He definitely didn’t work out and his hair was probably a mess of curls, as he didn’t have time to brush it or even look at it this morning. 

“You won’t regret this, Jameson, I promise you,” Crowley said into the phone. “Yes, call me later to work out the details. Of course. Ciao.” 

Crowley hung up the phone and moved over to sit at his desk. Aziraphale shifted from where he had been standing by the door and set the tea down right as Crowley’s hand reached out for it. 

“Aziraphale, morning,” Crowley said before turning to look at him fully. “Did you call... That lady, the one with the big wart…” Crowley made a circle motion with his hands. 

“Barb.” 

“Yes, did you call Barb and tell her we need those edits by next week or else-” 

“Or else she’ll never be published, again. Yes, I called her.” Aziraphale moved from beside Crowley to the front of the desk. 

“Great, and uh,” Crowley looked at his cup, noticing writing on it. “Who is Marco?” 

Crowley turned the cup to reveal the name ‘Marco’ written out in sharpie with a phone number hastily scribbled next to it. Marco was the barista Aziraphale saw every day when he picked up his and Crowley’s drinks. He always did seem very friendly. 

“Well, you see, erm, that was originally my cup,” Aziraphale stated, fidgeting with his sleeve. 

“Why am I drinking your tea?” Crowley said, eyebrows raising above his sunglasses. 

“Because yours spilled,” Aziraphale shifted his weight back and forth and feigned interest at something just over Crowley’s shoulder. 

“And you’re telling me that you also drink darjeeling tea, two cubes of sugar, light milk, with an ice cube in it?” Crowley emphasized this by taking a sip of the tea. 

“Yes.” 

“Is that a coincidence?”

“I wouldn't drink the same tea that you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be pathetic.” Aziraphale said with a sarcastic tone, but before Crowley could say anything further, Aziraphale pressed on. “We have a meeting at 9:30 with Dagon and Beez and that thing with Ligur should probably happen about now.” 

“Alright, alright, let’s get going,” Crowley stood up and walked briskly past Aziraphale, his nose scrunching up in a way that told Aziraphale he had just narrowed his eyes at him.

Aziraphale took another deep breath.

“Did you, by any chance, read my manuscript?” Aziraphale was trailing behind Crowley through the office. Aziraphale had spent the last five years reading and editing manuscripts of all kinds for Ninth Circle Publishing, and he figured why not take a crack at publishing his own? He loved reading, had done since he was a little kid, and wanted nothing more than to be published, himself, one day. He was constantly writing and self-editing during all of the free time he had in the last year and a half, which was approximately ten total hours a week. He did a lot of overtime. 

“I read a few pages,” Crowley said, in a flat tone. “It was below average.” 

They had reached Ligur’s office. Aziraphale stopped Crowley from opening the door by placing his hand above the handle.    
  
“Can I say something?” He asked, trying to sound sincere. “I think it’s really good, Crowley, and if you would just give it a chance, give me a chance, I really think-” 

“No. And, you know what else? I think you  _ do  _ order the same tea as I do just in case you spill it, which is quite pathetic,” Crowley moved his hand to open the door, again. 

“Or impressive,” Aziraphale flashed a big, fake smile at him. 

“I'd be impressed if you didn't spill it in the first place,” Crowley swung open the door to Ligur’s office. It was an office only slightly smaller than Crowley’s, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back wall. Ligur was standing by a large, brown desk, rubbing his hand smoothly along the surface when he noticed Crowley and Aziraphale had entered. 

“Ah, Crowley and his man-servant!” Ligur greeted. Aziraphale flinched slightly at that and pretended to ignore how it stung most of all due to accuracy. “Hey, how do you like my desk?” 

“It’s lovely, is it new?” Crowley asked, putting on a vapid smirk and eyeing up the desk. 

“Well, it was originally made in 1924, but it is new to my office, yes. And would you look at the mahogany finish on the-” 

“Ligur, I’m letting you go.” Crowley interrupted without pause. “I asked you a dozen times to get Jameson to rework his novel and you didn’t do it. So, you’re fired.” 

Ligur’s mouth hung open, hand still poised mid-stroke along the top of his desk. It really was quite a nice desk, Aziraphale observed. 

“That was an impossible task, he wouldn’t budge, I tried, and I-” 

“Well, guess what, Ligur? He’s doing it. All I did was give him one phone call. You’re lazy, incompetent, and I’m firing you,” Crowley said, sternly. 

It was times like these where Aziraphale could really see how Crowley managed to become editor-in-chief for a major publishing company by the age of 40. It was also times like these that reminded Aziraphale of how much power Crowley truly had. 

Crowley turned and motioned for Aziraphale to follow. They stepped out of Ligur’s office. 

“What’s his status?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale watched Ligur through the glass windows separating his personal office from the main office area. 

“He’s on the move,” Aziraphale responded, watching Ligur’s blood pressure rise in real-time. “Oh dear, he’s-” 

Before Aziraphale could finish, Ligur burst out of his office and pointed a finger at Crowley. 

“You fucking prick! You can’t do this!” 

Heads began turning slightly and everything in the office seemed to come to a standstill. Crowley coughed and motioned for everyone to get back to work. 

“Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves,” Ligur continued, still shouting. “You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’ll have when you're dying in a hospital bed? Nothing and no one.” 

Aziraphale risked a sideways glance at Crowley, who was smiling politely at Ligur as if his outburst was nothing more than a tantrum thrown by someone else’s child at a grocery store. 

“Ligur, keep shouting and you’ll have to be escorted out by security and I’ll tell your wife that you’ve been sleeping with Hastur for two years,” Crowley turned and started walking, again. Aziraphale mouthed an apology to a stunned Ligur and followed Crowley. “Aziraphale, make sure to tell maintenance to put Ligur’s desk in my office.” 

Crowley was, well, to put it lightly - a bitch. He was cruel at the worst of times and mildly inconveniencing at the best. This is all to say that what Ligur said wasn’t untrue. In fact, it was downright accurate. But, no one wanted to be the next person to lose their job, so they all just pretended to be working and the day would continue down its uneventful trajectory. 

Aziraphale caught up to Crowley right outside of his office. Crowley walked in and went straight to his laptop and began typing. Aziraphale stood by waiting for instruction. 

“Are you busy this weekend?” Crowley asked without looking up. “I’ll need your help going through all of the clients that Ligur was managing.” 

“Oh, well actually it’s my godmother’s 80th birthday this weekend, so I was thinking of going home… and…” Aziraphale trailed off, seeing the look on Crowley’s face. “I’ll just cancel it, then, shall I?” 

Crowley did a slight nod and Aziraphale turned to leave. Right.  _ Mildly _ inconveniencing. 

Aziraphale stepped just outside of the office to make a quick call to his cousin. She picked up on the third ring. 

“Aziraphale!” Anathema exclaimed so loud that Aziraphale had to move the phone slightly away from his ear. “What’s up? I thought I wouldn’t hear from you until you got in this weekend.” 

“Hello, dear girl,” Aziraphale couldn’t help the warm smile that settled on his face. Anathema wasn't just his cousin, but one of his dearest and bestest friends. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it this weekend, actually. Something, er, came up… at work, you see.” 

Aziraphale hated disappointing people and he could almost hear Anathema deflate. 

“Work? Is it The Demon, again?” Anathema had taken to calling Crowley by the nickname Aziraphale gave him once when talking about work to Anathema at a pub around last Christmas. “Aziraphale, it’s Tracy’s 80th. Not many chances to celebrate an 80th birthday.” 

Aziraphale sighed. He wanted to go, he had been looking forward to it all month, really, but…    
  
“I know, dear, but I can’t, I’ve- I’ve worked too hard for this promotion to give it all up,” Aziraphale felt terrible, but he had given so many years of his life to this job and he desperately needed to be on Crowley’s good side. “I’m sorry, truly.” 

Anathema didn’t put up much of a fight, knowing as well as Aziraphale that The Demon got what The Demon wanted. They said their goodbyes and Aziraphale hung up. 

“That your family?” Crowley asked from behind Aziraphale. 

_ Oh no, did he hear that?  _ Aziraphale thought, slightly panicked. 

“Uh, yes, just updating them on the new arrangements for the weekend,” Aziraphale glanced at his watch. “Time for that meeting with Dagon and Beez.” 

Crowley walked to the conference room alone, leaving Aziraphale to continue working, to find Dagon hovering over Beez, who was typing something furiously on their laptop. 

Dagon raised her arms in greeting. 

“Crowley! Welcome, have a seat,” Dagon motioned to the long line of chairs sitting along the conference table. 

“Is this about another raise,” Crowley joked. Well, he joked how only Crowley could joke, which was with a small, evil-adjacent smirk and a tone that was probably supposed to be playful, but sounded far too stern. 

“No, you idiot,” Beez started, rolling their eyes. “Do you remember when you applied for a work visa?” 

“Yes,” Crowley said, picking at some unseen lint on his pant leg. Although, to the untrained eye, Crowley seemed as British as biscuits and the Queen, herself, he was actually born and raised in Cape Town, South Africa. He had come over to London for school and ended up liking it much better. For one, there was far less sand and for another, the air wasn’t tainted with a fishy aroma and seagulls trying to steal your chips every five minutes. 

“And do you remember that we told you  _ not  _ to go to that conference in Paris because you weren’t allowed to leave the country while the visa was still processing, but you went anyway like the great pillock that you are?” Beez said, getting more annoyed with each word. 

“Maybe,” Crowley finally looked up to see Beez’s expression. “Beez, we were going to lose the Robertson account, you know how important they are for business.” 

“Well,” Beez rolled their eyes, again. “Guess what? Your visa application has been denied.” 

“What?” Crowley’s mouth had fallen open involuntarily. 

“And you’re being deported,” Dagon added. 

“ _ Deported?”  _ Crowley gasped. “Deported? I’m not even, like, a  _ real _ immigrant. I’m from South Africa, for God's sake, that might as well just be South England.” 

“We tried to warn you,” Beez started, but was stopped by Dagon. 

“Listen, Crowley, we would do anything to try and reverse this, but what’s done is done,” Dagon sighed. “You can re-apply, but while that happens, you’ll have to leave the country for at least a year. And you can’t work for a British company when you’ve been deported.” 

Crowley sat back in his chair, sifting through his brain for any possible scenario that could get him out of this mess. He was coming up blank. 

“Look,” Dagon continued. “It’s fine, we’ll get Ligur to replace you while we wait for the new application-” 

“Ligur?” Crowley asked, incredulously. “The guy I just fired? No, Dagon, please, there must be something… ” 

It was at this moment that Aziraphale poked his head through the door. He could tell something tense had just been discussed judging from Crowley’s posture, but decided to charge forward anyway, since he already interrupted. 

“What, Aziraphale?” Crowley snapped. 

“Ah, yes, terribly sorry, but Jameson is back on the line,” Aziraphale motioned to the phone in his hand. “I told him you were otherwise engaged, so…” 

_ Engaged.  _

Crowley lit up. He might just be able to make this work. Crowley walked over to Aziraphale, whispered “Follow my lead,” to him, and pulled on his hand until he stood in the center of the room with Crowley, facing Dagon and Beez. 

“Listen, I know that we are in a predicament, so I guess it’s only right to share this information with you right now,” Crowley announced to Dagon and Beez while still holding Aziraphale’s hand, which Aziraphale was only distantly aware of, as he desperately tried to follow along with what Crowley was saying. “Me and Aziraphale are getting married!” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please note that i know nothing about immigration laws in the UK, so these will be based on the US immigration laws cited in the movie. 
> 
> thank you for your comments!! remember updates are on saturdays and wednesdays

Aziraphale was certain he was about to black out. Can people black out standing up? He might be the first to find out. 

_ Married.  _

The word registered somewhere in his remaining shred of consciousness. Crowley couldn’t possibly have meant it like it sounded. As in  _ they _ were getting married. No, there must be some misunderstanding. Something Aziraphale hadn’t pieced together in his short time between interrupting the meeting and finding himself holding hands with his boss in front of two of the top executives of the company. 

“Who is getting married?” Aziraphale heard himself ask. He turned his head slightly toward Crowley and saw him make a face that said ‘Come on, come on, please just go along.’ Which is very impressive considering he is still wearing the sunglasses that cover more than half of his face. 

“ _ We  _ are,” Crowley then slid his hand up and through the crook of Aziraphale’s elbow, patting Aziraphale’s bicep with his other hand and letting it rest there. “We’re getting married.” 

“Married,” Aziraphale stared into space for a second before looking at Beez, whose mouth was hanging open, and Dagon, who looked confused. “Married. Right. Of course. Us. Getting. That- Married.”

Dagon came around the table to stand directly in front of them. She turned back to look at Beez and then turned back to Crowley. Was Crowley blushing? Aziraphale couldn’t quite tell as it seems the room has begun to spin. 

Dagon gestured between the two of them. 

“Isn’t he your secretary?” Dagon asked, each syllable containing its own question mark. 

“Assistant,” Crowley and Aziraphale corrected at the same time.

“You can’t be serious,” Beez drawled from their seat. They had closed their laptop and now had their feet up on the conference table and their hands behind their head. 

“Oh, come off it, Beez,” Crowley replied. “All those late nights working together, trips away on the weekends to conferences and networking events… Think about it, we have spent a lot of our time together.” 

Aziraphale noted to himself that this was not technically a lie. He had spent more time with Crowley in the last five years than anybody else. He saw him practically every day for sometimes upwards of 12 hours a day. He knew Crowley’s habits, likes, and dislikes like the back of his own hand. Maybe even better than his  _ own  _ habits, likes, and dislikes. He knew how he took his tea, what his favorite kind of soup was at the deli down the street, exactly which tailor he trusted with his suits and which ones he would rather die than use, he knew that he didn’t like to deal with writers who called him “Tony,” the list goes on. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone has fallen in love with their secretary,” Dagon pointed out to Beez. 

“Assistant,” Aziraphale said under his breath. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s bicep lightly, almost like he was trying to reassure him. 

_ That’s new.  _

Aziraphale shook his head, as if to shoo the train of thought that Crowley had any ounce of empathy in him away. 

In all the time that Aziraphale had known Crowley, he only knew him to express two emotions: annoyed and angry. Sometimes he got to see the special combination of both. But kindness, happiness, and  _ love _ were definitely not things Aziraphale found Crowley capable of - He had him work on Christmas one year, for God’s sake. The man gave Scrooge a run for his money. 

“So, yes, I just wanted to let you know that we are happy and very much in love,” Crowley tried to give Aziraphale an adoring look but it ended up looking like a grimace. “And we’re good with this? Yes?” 

Dagon and Beez exchanged a look. 

“Crowley, it’s terrific,” Dagon smiled at Crowley in a way that seemed far too genuine considering it was in reaction to a bold-faced lie. “Just make it legal.” 

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. 

“Right, legal, so… we should be heading over to the immigration offices… Right,” Crowley turned to Aziraphale and attempted to move toward the door. Aziraphale, still frazzled and hopelessly confused as to what just happened, ran into him. They bumped into each other four more times before finally making it to the door. 

“Uh, have a good day!” Aziraphale said, brightly, before softly shutting the door. By the time he turned to Crowley, he was already halfway back to his office. He sighed. 

A computer in the main office area pinged. And then another. And another. Soon, every computer in the entire blasted office seemed to have pinged. Aziraphale could guess what it was about. 

As he made his way back to Crowley’s office, whispers followed him like a shadow. 

_ The Demon and Aziraphale are getting married? I didn’t even know they were dating.  _

_ Aziraphale could do way better than  _ him _ , I wonder if it’s blackmail.  _

_ Yeah. What is he thinking?  _

_ It’s odd in a way but it also kinda makes sense, don’t you think?  _

Aziraphale walked into Crowley’s office and closed the door behind him. He stared at Crowley as he typed away, pretending like everything was fine and normal and like he hadn’t just implied to their bosses (and subsequently the entire office) that they were getting married when they most assuredly were not. 

“What?” Crowley asked, not looking up. If anything his typing began to pick up speed. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Aziraphale said, once again looking past Crowley’s shoulder to something just outside the window. 

Crowley sighed as if explaining what the bloody hell was going on was some sort of chore and not something owed to Aziraphale. 

“Relax, this is for both of us,” Crowley replied and then went back to typing. 

Once Aziraphale realized that was all Crowley had intended to say, he sat down in the chair directly in front of Crowley’s desk and put his hands on the table, catching Crowley’s attention enough to be torn away from the screen. 

“Please explain.” 

Crowley closed his laptop and looked up at Aziraphale as if this should be the most obvious thing in the world and he was a right idiot for even having to ask. 

“They were going to make Ligur editor-in-chief, Aziraphale. I couldn’t let that happen,” Crowley explained, slowly. 

“Right, so, naturally, I would then have to  _ marry  _ you?” Aziraphale wanted to say that he could not believe the amount of selfishness contained in Crowley’s decision, but this wasn’t the first and probably wouldn’t be the last time Crowley decided to throw Aziraphale into a scenario as ridiculous as this one. 

“Oh come off it,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you were saving yourself for someone special.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. 

“Well, I was sort of hoping to.” 

This was a lie. Aziraphale didn’t date. He used to, when he was younger and before he got this job. Dated quite a few nice blokes, and even a few nice girls believe it or not, but at the end of the day, Aziraphale was always too dedicated to his job, too stuffy, too prim, too proper, too… like a guy who wears a bow tie and sweater vests. 

He hadn’t dated anyone seriously in probably six or seven years, now. And the prospect of getting married got smaller and smaller with each passing birthday. Truth be told, Aziraphale had accepted that he was meant to be alone a long time ago, and he was fine with it, but Crowley didn’t know that. 

“Also,” Aziraphale began to point out. “It’s illegal.”

Aziraphale, of course, knew that Crowley was an immigrant, as he had helped him with his work visa application. They spent hours sitting in this very office going back and forth until it got dark and then light with morning sun making sure that everything was in order. It was a shame that it was apparently all a waste. 

This time, it was Crowley’s turn to scoff. 

“They’re looking for terrorists, Aziraphale, not book publishers,” Crowley adjusted his sunglasses and kicked his feet up on the desk. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale approached his desk, grabbed Crowley’s foot, and pulled it off the table. “I’m not going to marry you.” 

“Sure you are,” Crowley stood up and walked over to the various houseplants that he kept in his office. “Because as soon as they promote Ligur, he’s going to fire you. And your five years of hard work and dedication will all have been for nothing.” 

Aziraphale panicked slightly at the idea that his entire life and career hung on the balance. He knew deep down that Crowley was right, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to admit it. 

“Plus,” Crowley added. “We only have to stay married for the allotted time, and then we can divorce. Simple as that.” 

Aziraphale had to admit, it didn’t sound like a half-bad plan. They already spent all of their time together, minus a few hours at home everyday, so really, what would be the difference? And they could separate after a non-suspicious amount of time and everything would go back to exactly how it has always been. 

As much as Aziraphale didn’t want to go through with this (still highly illegal) plan, he didn’t want to lose his job, either. 

Aziraphale let out a sigh, taking all of his reservations with him. 

“Alright,” he said and Crowley perked up. “Where do we start?” 

Crowley smiled and it almost looked genuine. Had Aziraphale ever seen Crowley smile like that? Had he ever seen him smile,  _ in general? _

“First stop, the immigration offices.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale finally comes to terms with the consequences of what they're doing

Aziraphale walked into the immigration office the next afternoon, trailing dutifully behind Crowley. He sniffed haughtily as they entered the lobby. It was as if someone had designed the building with the specific idea of slowly torturing people in it. There was, for starters, already a very long queue for the counter. Secondly, the whole place was glowing a sort of yellowish-green color, the fluorescent lights making everyone look like the cast of Beetlejuice, and there was a stale scent in the air, and the temperature was at least 15 degrees warmer than comfortable. 

Aziraphale tried to adjust his bowtie and straighten his ruffled shirt. Crowley had driven them there in his vintage Bentley and it would be a gross understatement to say that he drove like a bat out of Hell. It was a bit odd that someone who cared so much about their car would drive it so recklessly. 

Aziraphale had been gripping any available surface the entire time. 

Crowley went to walk up to the counter before Aziraphale placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at the offending hand and then at Aziraphale’s face. 

“What?” Crowley said as Aziraphale dropped his hand from his shoulder. 

_ Did he look disappointed?  _ Aziraphale thought as he saw Crowley sag slightly after the severed connection. 

“Crowley, the queue is back here,” Aziraphale gestured to the end of the line, about 2 feet from the entrance, and stepped into place. 

Crowley looked at the queue, then looked at the desk, then grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and pulled him to the front, ignoring the disgruntled people who had been waiting their turn. 

Aziraphale groaned. Why did he have to pretend to marry somebody so difficult? 

“Excuse me, I just have to ask her something,” Crowley smiled at the person who had been next in line and turned to the secretary. “I need for you to file this fiancée visa for me, please.” 

Crowley had on his “Publisher Voice.” The voice that was polite enough, but had a hint of sterness, communicating to whoever was on the other end of it that he would exchange pleasantries and lay on the charm if need be, but make no mistake: he was not a pushover. 

The secretary looked at Crowley over the rim of her glasses and appeared to decide that it wasn’t worth it to argue with this broody looking red-head and his marshmallow fiancée. She glanced over the papers. 

“Mr. Anthony Crowley?” She asked, looking up at Crowley. 

“The one and only.” 

“Please come this way.” 

They followed the woman down a short hallway and were led into a room that looked set to interrogate a psychopathic murderer, not interview people who simply wanted to immigrate into the country. 

Aziraphale and Crowley sat down in two folding chairs that were set up on one end of the table, facing a single folding chair that was currently empty. The overhead light was giving Aziraphale a headache. It was either that, or this whole situation. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley. 

Before Crowley could reply, an older man entered the room. He had on a fairly nice suit and gave the air that he should be on a porch in some suburban neighborhood, yelling at the kids to get off of his lawn. As he walked over to the table, Crowley and Aziraphale stood up and took turns shaking his hand. 

“Aziraphale Fell and Anthony Crowley, I presume?” he said, looking down at the stack of papers in his hand. 

They nodded. 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you. My name is R.P. Tyler, but you can just call me Mr. Tyler,” He finally sat down across from them, folding his hands over the papers, and gave them a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So sorry for the wait, we’ve been very busy today.” 

Aziraphale had to concentrate very hard so as not to snort at the implication that they waited any longer than the 2 minutes it had taken them to get from the front entrance to the spot they’re sitting in right now. 

“Yes, well, thank you for seeing us!” Crowley had on The Voice, again. 

“Right, well, shall we begin? I just have one quick question before we get started, however,” Mr. Tyler looked back and forth at them. “Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his position as editor-in-chief at Ninth Circle Publishing?”

Aziraphale’s heart practically stopped beating. In fact, he’s fairly certain it had for a moment. 

Crowley started sputtering and Aziraphale’s heart started back up. 

“Where did you even get such an idea-”   
“That is ridiculous-” They both started. 

Mr. Tyler raised his eyebrows and sat back in his seat a little. 

“We got a tip this afternoon from a man… I can’t seem to remember his name. It was something sort of odd.” 

Crowley sighed and started rubbing his temple. He muttered something under his breath and then looked back at Mr. Tyler. 

“Would it have happened to be a man named Ligur?” Crowley asked, exasperated. 

Aziraphale hadn’t even thought of Ligur being an issue, but he supposed that the man did just get fired by Crowley yesterday and he surely heard of both the attempt at deportation and the sudden engagement. He hadn’t thought it would actually cause any sort of problem, but now he can see that he was mistaken. 

“Yes, Ligur, that was the name,” Mr. Tyler clapped his hands together. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” Crowley started, sounding genuinely apologetic. “He is a burned ex-employee, you see. I just fired him yesterday. But we know you must be very busy, if the length of the queue is anything to go by, so we will be out of your hair. If you could just advise us of the next steps, that’d be great.” 

Crowley was starting to get fidgety. He always did that when he was nervous or felt a little bit out of his range. You couldn’t tell thanks to the sunglasses, but Aziraphale knew without seeing them that his eyes were moving around wildly. 

“Tony, please,” Mr. Tyler put his hand up in a gesture that said ‘shut up for two seconds so I can say what I need to say.’ Crowley tensed at the nickname. Mr. Tyler took a deep breath. “Let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold. Step one, will be a scheduled interview. I'll put you each in a room, and I'll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other.”

Aziraphale didn’t think that would be so bad. He really did know Crowley probably better than any other person in his life. He could most likely answer all of the questions accurately, right down to this favorite color being a specific shade of red that had adorned the small snake Crowley had owned as a child. The interview would be easy enough. 

It was odd, thinking about how much Aziraphale and Crowley really did know about each other. Aziraphale had never thought about it before, but he supposes that if Crowley had any sort of heart and didn’t technically pay Aziraphale to be around him all of the time, they would most likely be considered friends, at this point.  _ Best _ friends, if we’re being honest. 

The thought of being  _ best friends _ with Anthony Crowley, however, sent a shiver of mild horror down Aziraphale’s spine. No, they weren’t friends. Just one (1) very controlling boss with no life outside of work and the poor git who worked for him. But that may just save them, yet. 

Mr. Tyler continued, “Step two, I dig deeper. I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbours, I interview your co-workers. If your answers don't match up at every point, you will be deported indefinitely.” 

That bit was a little more complicated. Seeing as the first time all of their coworkers had heard any official announcement of their relationship was yesterday, and it was that they were engaged, no less, would be less than Kosher. 

Mr. Tyler pointed a finger directly at Aziraphale as he continued further, “And you, sir, will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of £250,000 and a stay of five years in federal prison. So, Aziraphale, do you have anything you would like to say?” 

Aziraphale paused to soak in Mr. Tyler’s words. Five years in jail seemed like nothing compared to the five years he had spent working for Ninth Circle Publishing. The £250,000 would hurt, but not as much as having a stay in federal prison would. He risked a sideways glance at Crowley. What he saw was a little shocking. 

He looked, well, he looked miserable. He looked miserable, and sad, and pleading, and a little pathetic. Aziraphale knew that this job was Crowley’s livelihood, too, and that he had actually worked very hard for his position. He felt a pang of pity and empathy for his boss. 

Well, his mom always did say his kind heart will bring him nothing but trouble. Kind heart? Meet trouble. His name is Anthony Crowley. 

Aziraphale reached out and gingerly took Crowley’s hands in his. Crowley looked up at him and the pleading was still written all over his face. Aziraphale turned to Mr. Tyler. 

“Listen, we’re just… we’re just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love,” Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes as he said the next part. “And we couldn’t tell anyone at work because of the big promotion that was coming my way. We wouldn't want anyone to think that it was being given unfairly.” 

Crowley looked confused but Aziraphale pushed on. 

“We thought it would be deeply inappropriate if I were promoted to editor all because I was in love with my boss,” Aziraphale looked over to see Mr. Tyler narrowing his eyes at them. 

“And so have you told your parents about this… this love affair?” Mr. Tyler looked unconvinced. 

“Impossible,” Crowley replied. “My parents are dead. And I don’t talk to my family. No siblings.” 

“Convenient,” Mr. Tyler scoffed. “And what about you? Your parents dead?” 

Aziraphale went to go open his mouth, but Crowley answered for him. 

“Yes, but he was raised by his godmother, and she is very much alive,” Crowley said, finally releasing Aziraphale’s hands to pat the table next to Mr. Tyler’s papers. “In fact, we were going to tell her this weekend. It’s Tracy’s 80th birthday party, so the whole family will be there and we figured it would be a nice little surprise.” 

Mr. Tyler practically rolled his eyes. 

“And where is this little gathering?” 

Crowley smacked Aziraphale lightly on the arm. Aziraphale looked up, having blacked out somewhere after Crowley mentioned coming to his childhood home and looking his primary caretaker in the eyes and lying about being in love and getting married. 

“Ah, uh, Tadfield, it’ll be at my godmother’s house,” Aziraphale cleared his throat and caught Crowley smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. 

Mr. Tyler slammed both hands onto the metal table and pushed himself up to his feet. He looked a little exasperated.   
  
“OK. Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning, after you get back from your weekend trip, for your scheduled interview, and your answers better match up on every account,” He gathered his papers and motioned for them to stand up and leave. 

“Thank you, Mr. Tyler, we look forward to it!” Crowley chirped at Mr. Tyler, before turning to answer a phone call from his cell phone. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, shaking Mr. Tyler’s hand as Crowley walked toward the exit, instructing Jameson that the vampires had to be sexy to be marketable. 

“Yes, well, it’s going to be fun. I’ll be checking up on you.” 

And with that, Mr. Tyler closed the door. Aziraphale stared at the brown wood for a few seconds as his head caught up with everything that had happened. He was going to have to take Crowley home to meet his entire family and lie loudly, and illegally, to them about getting married to his boss that he has expressed explicit hatred for for the last half a decade. 

Oh, this was not going to be fun. Not fun at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an arrangement is made

Aziraphale stepped out of the building and found Crowley off to the side, presumably still talking to Jameson about hot vampires or whatever it is he’s writing about. 

Aziraphale felt numb. He didn’t feel angry, or worried, or anxious, despite what had just transpired in that cold, sickly lit room and what the consequences of their actions were - no, he felt nothing. Well, maybe a little anxious. 

Crowley hung up with Jameson and turned to Aziraphale. 

“Right, so we’ll drive up to your godmother’s place in Tadfield, we’ll tell them that we’re boyfriends, or dating, or what have you, and then we’ll announce the engagement,” Crowley was tapping viciously on his phone, not looking up. “I’ll drive, obviously, but there are a few rules for longer distanced trips in the Bentley: No hot drinks, no food that is too crumby like Nature Valley bars or a flaky pastry, like croissants. Don’t put your feet anywhere but firmly on the ground, and  _ definitely  _ do not take your shoes off… and… why aren’t you writing this down?” 

Aziraphale just stared at Crowley. How could he pretend that everything was normal? That lying to your entire family about the status of your relationship, which is the exact opposite of what you have been telling them for literal years, and getting fake married for the most illegal of reasons is just another Thursday afternoon? 

Aziraphale stepped forward, almost crowding Crowley into the side of the building that he had been standing at. 

“Did you hear what was said in there?” Aziraphale asked, searching Crowley’s eyes.    


Crowley had the gall to look confused. 

“What?” Crowley put his phone away. “Also, the thing about you being promoted? Absolutely genius. I couldn’t think of a reason we would have kept this sort of relationship secret, you know everyone in the office is either having affairs or casual sex, so this would certainly fly if it were real, but the promotion bit? Brilliant.” 

Aziraphale inhaled slowly. He seems to be doing this a lot nowadays, or at least for the past two. 

“I was being serious, actually,” Aziraphale started, tilting his chin up ever so slightly. “I am risking my life, and a £250,000 fine plus a five year stint in jail for this, Crowley.” 

Crowley looked at him and squinted.    
  
“You really want promoted, huh?” Crowley crossed his arms. 

“I think it is quite literally the least I deserve,” Aziraphale tried to muster up some height, a near impossible feat as Crowley had at least three inches on him. “And if you don’t, I will quit, and you will be screwed as I cannot imagine that anyone else would be willing to do something like this for you.” 

Aziraphale felt a little bad at the implication that Crowley had no one else that cared about him, and even more bad at the implication that Aziraphale just barely did. 

However, he thinks he’s a little justified. 

Crowley flinched a little at Aziraphale’s words. 

“All right, I’ll promote you to editor,” Crowley grumbled. 

Aziraphale felt a relief surge through him. At the very least, the last few years of hard work would not go to waste, and he would finally get the position he had been working toward ever since he left Tadfield. But that wasn’t all. 

“I also want you to publish my manuscript,” Aziraphale added, with some authority. 

Crowley made a series of unintelligible noises. He seemed to resign to his fate after a few seconds. 

“Fine, fine, we’ll print ten thousand copies-” 

“Twenty thousand copies, first run,” Aziraphale interrupted. “And we will be telling my family about our engagement the way I want to and when I want to, got it?” 

Crowley looked very taken aback to being spoken to like he was the one to be following orders and not the other way around. He straightened his back and put his hand out in front of him. 

“Deal.” 

Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand in his. It was warm, soft, and sent a small shock up Aziraphale’s arm. He must be touch-starved if Crowley’s casual touches over the last two days was doing things to him. 

Crowley made to turn back toward the car, but Aziraphale didn’t let go of his hand. 

“And Crowley? I’m going to need you to ask me nicely,” Aziraphale had a small smirk on his face, like he was enjoying bossing Crowley around for once. Because he is. 

“Ask you what nicely?” 

“To marry you.” 

“Wha-”

“You heard me. On your knee.” 

If it was possible for your entire body to do an eye roll, Crowley just did it. He let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and got down on the ground, struggling a little bit due to his incredibly tight pants. Seriously, who wears work trousers  _ that _ snug. Not that Aziraphale had noticed or anything, but really. Seems a tad unprofessional. 

Once Crowley was situated on the ground with one knee bent, he put out both of his hands in a wide gesture. 

“Is this good? Yeah? Okay, great,” Crowley slapped both hands on his bent knee. “Will you marry me?” 

Aziraphale pretended to ponder this question for a brief moment. He put his forefinger on his chin and tapped it a few times, pursing his lips. 

“No.” Crowley visibly crumpled. “Say it like you mean it.” 

Crowley sighed. He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and held it gingerly between his and seriously, how many times were they going to hold hands? Aziraphale supposed that, since they were now officially fake-engaged, quite a lot. Maybe even more than that. Aziraphale felt his cheeks begin to burn. 

_ Oh, this is not good. _

Crowley’s touch was, once again, very warm and a weird sort of bloom began in Aziraphale’s fingers, trapped between Crowley’s hands. 

“Aziraphale, sweet, sweet Aziraphale, will you please do me the honor of marrying me?” Crowley’s words were tinged with a light smattering of sarcasm and now it was Aziraphale’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“I don’t appreciate the tone, but fine.” 

Crowley got up and dusted off his pants. A few onlookers had noticed the engagement and decided to come offer their congratulations. 

Two teenage girls walked up to them, one with blue hair and a plethora of face piercings, and the other wearing a knit red, pink, orange, and white beanie with big, round glasses. 

“We saw you two get engaged, and we just wanted to say that it’s very sweet to see older members of the LGBTQ+ community finding happiness and true love. Not to be too forward or creepy or anything, but it really means a lot to us,” The blue haired one said while grabbing the other girl’s hand. 

Aziraphale was going to correct them but two things occurred to him: one, what would he say? That this wasn’t a real engagement, and was in fact part of a larger scam to fool the UK government into giving Crowley a visa, and that it was just something he did to watch his boss grovel at his feet? No, he couldn’t say that. And two, he remembered being a young kid, scared and feeling so alone and weird. So, he snaked his arm around Crowley’s back and rested a proprietary hand on his hip, tugging him a little closer.

“We appreciate it, dears, and I can assure you it’s not creepy at all,” Aziraphale smiled at them gently. “Please always remember, no matter what anyone says, that you deserve love and happiness as much as anyone else.” 

Aziraphale could see Crowley looking at him out of the corner of his eye, a dazed look on his face. Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

“Right, dear?” Aziraphale said, turning his smile to Crowley. 

Crowley seemed to kickstart back to Earth at that moment. He relaxed a little in Aziraphale’s hold, melting slightly into Aziraphale’s side. 

“Yes, of course, angel,” Crowley turned to face the girls. “Girls, you’re never alone in this world. No matter what any of those tossers out there tell you.” 

The girls thanked them and offered their congrats, again, before leaving, turning to walk hand-in-hand down the street. A little skip in their steps. 

Aziraphale watched them depart with a dreamy expression. He felt good about helping young queer kids, even if it was based in a lie. He belatedly realized that he was still holding on to Crowley’s hip. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, releasing Crowley from his grip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“S’fine,” Crowley took a large step to the side, out of Aziraphale’s reach. “Really. I remember being a kid and feeling, well, alone. Weird. Unnatural, so… what I would’ve given for two gaffers on the street to tell me that what I was feeling was okay.” 

Aziraphale thought briefly of a Crowley who was scared or who had been bullied. He almost couldn’t imagine it, but beneath all that bite and sarcasm and brutal honesty, Aziraphale had to believe, lied a person with emotions and experiences and the capacity to be hurt. 

“Why ‘angel,’ though?” Aziraphale asked before he could stop himself. 

“Hm?” Crowley tipped his head in confusion. 

“Why did you call me ‘angel?’” 

“Ah, well, uh, you see,” Crowley was turning a light shade of pink. “It just sort of slipped out. You’re named after an Angel, aren’t you? So, it’s only fitting and I just thought maybe we would be the type for endearments. You use them, calling everyone ‘dear’ and such.” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Aziraphale had to admit, he did have a habit of calling the people he encountered ‘dear.’ It came with the territory of dressing like someone twice his own age. 

There was an awkward silence before Crowley cleared his throat. 

“Anyways,” Crowley continued. “I’ll, uh, pick you up, then? Tomorrow morning?” 

Aziraphale gave a small nod. 

“Quite. We should get there for brunch at 10:30 a.m., so how does leaving around 8 sound?” Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to meet Crowley’s eyes for some reason. 

“Good, good,” Crowley kicked his feet around for a second. “So, we should get going. Lots of, er, packing to do.” 

They walked back to the car in relative silence. Aziraphale didn’t even have a chance to dwell on it too much, though, before Crowley’s treacherous driving, once again, took all of his attention.

He wasn’t sure he could stand another minute of this, let alone an hour and a half tomorrow. But, he had a deal. And if Aziraphale could be sure of one thing, it was that he would always keep the deals that he makes, no matter what. Even if they were with the devil, himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some on-the-road shenanigans as they make their way to Tadfield

Aziraphale woke up early the next morning and for five blissful minutes he simply sat among his cream sheets and let the soft stream of sunlight shining through the window warm his sleep-sore body. He stretched until he felt all of his bones crack satisfyingly and, as he relaxed back into a lump on the bed, he briefly contemplated going back to sleep. A quick glance at his clock said it was 7 a.m. 

No time, then. 

He got up, brushed his teeth, and changed into some comfortable clothes. Which, for Aziraphale, were his large, grey, fuzzy pullover, and a pair of tartan trousers. It was mid-October, so Aziraphale knew it would be fairly cold up in Tadfield, and his childhood home rested on the shore of a large lake, which flowed out into the Thames. All that to say it tended to be a bit nippy. Especially this time of year. 

He gathered up the documents from the immigration office and packed them into his work bag, which he was bringing with him, figuring Crowley would still have him do work while they were there. He gathered his suitcase, his bag, his wallet, and went down to the lobby of his apartment complex in SoHo. While he waited and sipped tea from his travel mug, he once again eyed up the bookstore across the street. 

It was a decrepit old thing, with tall pillars, windows darkened by dust and dirt, and it looked about two centuries out of style. Aziraphale loved it. He often found himself looking at it longingly and imagining what it would be like to own the store, to sell and curate collections upon collections of books. He imagined sitting in there and writing on a slow Sunday afternoon, customers filtering in and out, all of them friendly and interesting. 

He sighed wistfully and was brought back to himself when a loud, obnoxious honking came from outside. 

He waddled over to Crowley’s car, heading toward the boot, when Crowley got out and motioned for Aziraphale to hand him his suitcase. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Just get in the car, angel, I got them,” Crowley mumbled, taking the suitcase from Aziraphale’s hands. 

Ah, so the nickname was staying, then. Aziraphale sat down in the passenger seat and waited for Crowley to finish putting his suitcase away. It did make sense to keep up with the endearments and whatnot in private, just to practice, and to prevent any slip-ups. In fact, Aziraphale should do the same. They were going to have to convince the people who knew Aziraphale best, after all, and they would notice if anything was out of place. 

Crowley got back into the car, sliding into the driver seat in a way that suggested the man had no bones. Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, fidgeting with his hands, before leaning in and giving Crowley a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale said, quietly. 

Crowley had a stunned look on his face (was he blushing?) and put a hand up to touch the spot on his cheek that Aziraphale had placed his kiss. He turned to him and, although his sunglasses obscured most of his expression, Aziraphale could tell it was one of bewilderment. 

Aziraphale rushed to explain himself. 

“I- I, er, just thought maybe we should get into the habit of doing little bits of affection, you know. So that when we see my family, we aren’t taken off-guard or anything.” 

Crowley hadn’t moved and his expression hadn’t changed. Aziraphale wondered, distantly, if he broke him. He also wondered when the last time Crowley had been shown affection if this was his reaction every time Aziraphale touched him. 

“You know, I’m beginning to think this was definitely the right move, because if you reacted like this in front of them over a simple kiss on the cheek, this already flimsy plan might fall apart.” 

Crowley shook himself out of his stupor and turned back toward the road. 

“Right, yeah, ‘course, you’re right,” Crowley began driving. “Makes sense. Should we set some boundaries, then? So I’m not- I mean, so neither of us are caught by surprise?” 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. 

“Honestly, anything is fine as long as you don’t jam your tongue down my throat.” 

This seemed to have the intended effect of lightening the mood in the car, and Aziraphale practically felt the tension leave Crowley.    
  
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Crowley fake laughed. “Same for me, then.” 

Aziraphale reached inside his work bag and pulled out the documents that the immigration office had given them. He sifted through them until he found the pages he was looking for. 

“Alright, now, these are the questions that the HO is going to ask us,” Aziraphale glanced over the questions. “The good news is that I know all of these answers for you, the bad news is that you only have four days to learn the answers for me.” 

Crowley scoffed. Since they had hit a bit of standstill traffic, he grabbed the papers from Aziraphale and looked through the questions. 

“You know the answers to  _ all  _ of these questions about me?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.” 

Aziraphale gave him a deadpan expression. 

“Would you like to test me, then?” 

Crowley turned back to the papers and scanned for a question.    
  
“Am I allergic to anything?” 

“Horses. And probably Holy Water.” 

“Ha, ha, yes, yes, you’re hilarious. Do I have any scars?” 

“I’m about 99 percent sure you have a tattoo.” 

“Wha- how di- why are you so sure?” 

“Two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switched laser. I remembered reading about those in a book and am pretty sure they’re used to remove tattoos,  _ but  _ you cancelled your appointment.” 

Crowley gaped at Aziraphale. He turned back to the questions, clearly intending to move on. 

“So, what is it?” Aziraphale asked in a teasing tone. “Barbed wire? A skull and crossbones? A name?” 

Crowley smiled fakely at Aziraphale. 

“Boy, it is so fun to see this side of you,” Crowley’s words dripped with sarcasm. 

“Thank you, and you will show me some time as additional payment for this.” 

Crowley argued with him for the next 10 minutes about how, no, he will not be doing that, and tried, poorly, to pretend that he doesn’t even have a tattoo. 

Traffic finally began moving, again, and they continued their drive, Aziraphale reading questions from the sheet and working out the answers with Crowley. Sometimes they would get quiet and Aziraphale would admire the view, watching as the city flew by and gave way to trees, rolling green hills, and wide open blue skies. 

“Okay, here’s one,” Aziraphale said, looking down at the papers in his lap. “Which sides of the bed do we sleep on?” 

Crowley tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. 

“Hm, that’s a tough one, which side do you sleep on?” 

Aziraphale thought of the stacks of books and tea mugs that sit on the right-side bed table he’s had for years. He can’t remember the last time he saw it clear of clutter and junk. 

“On the right.” 

Crowley tapped his fingers some more. 

“Which side do you sleep on?” Aziraphale asked. 

“The middle.” 

Aziraphale looked at him. 

“You sleep in the middle? What size bed do you have?” 

“A king.” 

Aziraphale paused. 

“You have a king mattress and you sleep in the  _ middle _ ?” 

Crowley shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone else is sleeping in it,” Crowley replied. He seemed to realize what he implied a second later and mumbled, “It’s comfier in the middle, besides.” 

It was then that Aziraphale began to think about the last time Crowley had a partner. He hadn’t in all the time that Aziraphale had known him, which was approaching six years. He didn’t think he ever heard him talking about an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend or anyone. Which was fair, the job was rigorous. A lot of late nights and there really was no difference between being on the clock and off the clock. Clients called at every which hour, and you were expected to answer at any given moment. 

Crowley had grown quiet. 

Aziraphale saw the familiar sign advising them that they were only a mile out from Tadfield. He sighed, some of the tension and anxiety coming back into his body as they got closer and closer. He could do this. If not for Crowley, then at least for the promotion. But Aziraphale found that he was starting to want to do it for Crowley, too. 

He put a hand on Crowley’s leg and patted it. 

“We’re almost there, are you ready, dear?” 

Crowley turned to him, clearly feeling anxious as well. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's meet the family!!

As they pulled into the town, Crowley began looking around at all the different shops. There was a small pharmacy, a bakery, a hardware store, all the various shops you would expect to see in a small town. He caught the name of the convenient store and paused.

“Fell’s Corner Store” read the sign. 

Fell. That was, well, that was Aziraphale’s last name. Weird. His family must own the store. That’s very quaint. 

They continued driving through and Crowley noticed the autobody shop near town square. “Fell’s Garage” proclaimed the large red letters painted onto the building. Okay, definitely a little weird. 

As Crowley looked around more, he saw that many of the businesses were adorned with Aziraphale’s last name. 

“Uh, angel?” Crowley asked, distractedly looking at the “Fell’s Grocer” sign they were passing. 

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale replied as if nothing strange was happening. 

“Does your family, er, own the entire bloody town or something?” Crowley jerked his head in the direction of the businesses. 

“Oh, well, um, right, so about that-” 

Before Aziraphale could finish, they were turning up the driveway and got a full view of Aziraphale’s childhood home. 

To say it was massive was an understatement. It looked like a lodge meant to house at least 15 people. It was made of beautiful, dark wood, and had lovely, elegant looking windows scattered through the front of it. The surrounding area was just as breathtaking, with a gorgeous view of the lake from the many balconies that stuck out every which way. 

“You grew up  _ here _ ?” Crowley turned to Aziraphale with his mouth slightly agape. 

Aziraphale shrugged. 

“I never really thought to mention to my boss, who, by the way, has never once asked me about my childhood, that my family is wealthy and owns 70 percent of all of the businesses in a small town outside of Oxford,” Aziraphale looked up at his house, where a small older woman with ginger hair was descending the stars followed by a young brunette. “It simply never came up.” 

Aziraphale got out of the car and greeted the two women while Crowley got out and began unloading the boot. Aziraphale hugged his cousin, who looked over at Crowley. 

“Well, well, well,” she started, pushing up her glasses. “That’s the notorious Anthony J. Crowley.” 

Aziraphale batted her lightly on the arm.    
  
“Now, Anathema, please be nice,” Aziraphale scolded. 

“When have I ever not been?” Anathema asked, making big puppy eyes. 

She could be a right menace sometimes. 

Finally, Aziraphale turned to the older woman, his godmother. Tracy looked amazing for her age, she had on a light face of makeup with darker lipstick and a colorful dress. Her ginger hair was coiffed into small curls that framed her face and she had on long, black acrylics that could double as knives. 

Tracy gave him a big hug and a kiss on his cheek. 

“Welcome home, dearie,” Tracy cooed. “Now, where’s this young man you brought with you?” 

Crowley had gathered the suitcases and brought them over to the steps, setting them down harshly and rubbing his sore back. 

“I guess the word ‘young’ is inappropriate,” Anathema mumbled. Tracy hit her side lightly and turned a thousand-watt smile on Crowley. 

“Hello, Mr. Crowley, my name is Tracy,” Tracy put out a hand for Crowley to shake. He took it and pressed a friendly kiss to her knuckles. 

“The pleasure is mine, thank you for letting us stay in your… humble… abode.” Crowley straightened up and looked at the house up close. It really was quite large. 

“So,” Anathema interrupted. “Do you prefer we call you ‘Anthony,’ or ‘Crowley,’ or perhaps ‘The Demon’? We’ve heard it all ways.” 

Aziraphale wished right then and there that he had the power to smite people. Anathema would be dust where she stood. 

Instead, he picked up his suitcase and slammed it into her. 

“Anathema, would you be a dear and put these in our room?” Aziraphale asked, in the most fake and sweet tone that he could manage. He seemed to be looking around for someone. “Where’s Gabriel?” 

Tracy clicked her tongue in a disapproving manner.    
  
“Oh, you know your brother, always working.” 

“Ah, right, yes, I just figured he’d be here to see us arrive, it has been a while…” Aziraphale began to trail off and Tracy looked at him with a sad smile. “Anyways, what’s all that noise?” 

They could hear light music and chatter from where they were standing in front of the house. There was the sound of glasses clicking lightly and Aziraphale tried to peak around to catch a sight of what was on the other side. 

“Oh, well we decided to have a little welcome party for brunch!” Tracy led them to the back of the house. The back was somehow almost more beautiful than the front. It had white cloth draped over the bottom of the deck, and fairy lights were strung everywhere. There were a few tables set up, and Crowley spotted a herd of carafes filled with mimosas and sangrias. “They’re all very excited to meet you.” 

Tracy said that last bit to Crowley directly and  Aziraphale pulled him slightly to the side.    
  
“I’m so sorry, I didn't think they’d have an entire ‘Welcome Home’ party set up, it was just supposed to be a small brunch with me, you, Anathema, and Tracy,” Aziraphale whispered. 

Crowley waved his hand. 

“Don’t worry about it, angel, it’s fine,” Crowley kinda liked parties anyways. 

They turned the corner and a group of about 50 people yelled “WELCOME HOME, AZIRAPHALE!!” and raised their glasses in salute. 

Aziraphale’s face instantly warmed and he smiled down at the ground. It was weird seeing him lavished with attention that Crowley could instantly tell he didn’t want. 

They walked through the party and Aziraphale began introducing Crowley to the friends and family. There were Aziraphale’s cousins, the Youngs. Consisting of Deidre, Arthur, their young son, Adam, and his group of ragtag friends Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale. They even had a kid gang name, “the Them.” There was Shadwell, who talked to Crowley for 20 minutes about how witches steal penises from men and keep them as pets. There were also the Dowlings, Harriet and Thad, and their son who looked about the same age as the Them, Warlock. Crowley thought that was an odd name, but he did know ‘Aziraphale,’ so he supposed that wasn’t the weirdest name he’d heard. And there were many others whose names Crowley just couldn’t keep straight. 

Everyone was very friendly and very welcoming. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were some sort of British Kennedy?” Crowley asked as he followed Aziraphale over to the snacks. “It seems like everyone in Tadfield is here.” 

Aziraphale chuckled as he put a croissant on his small plate. 

“Well, dear, there was really never a proper moment, as we were in the middle of talking about you for the last five years,” Aziraphale smirked as he chewed on a donut hole. 

Crowley almost ripped out his hair. 

“Okay, time out,” Crowley pulled Aziraphale a little more to the side, again. “I know I have been selfish-” 

“That’s being generous.” 

“Yes, I  _ know _ , okay? But we have to pretend like we’re deeply and madly in love, so can we just call a truce?” Crowley put his hand out, again. 

More deals with the Devil. 

Aziraphale took it and agreed to stop bickering for the weekend. He wasn’t sure how feasible this promise was, but he would at least try. 

“When are you going to tell them that we’re engaged?” Crowley asked, looking out over the party of people who love and care for Aziraphale. 

“I’ll do it when the moment is right, don’t worry,” Aziraphale saw a woman walking over to them who looked a little older than Tracy. 

The old woman smiled at Aziraphale and pulled him into a hug. 

“Mrs. Johnson, how nice to see you, this is Crowley,” Aziraphale said as he squeezed her back. 

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you,” She pulled back and looked over at Crowley and then went in for a hug with him, as well. 

She stepped out to look over the two of them approvingly. 

“It’s so good to see you, Aziraphale, it’s been too long,” The crinkles around her eyes deepened. “I’ve always wanted to know what a book editor does!” 

“That makes two of us,” Aziraphale mumbled before a man in a light grey suit approached. 

The guy looked like he walked right out of a Harrods catalogue. He was tall, muscular, and had dark black hair with small wisps of grey around his ears. He had a cold stare and shook Aziraphale’s hand like they were business acquaintances. 

“Hello, Gabriel.” 

“Aziraphale.” 

The man turned his gaze onto Crowley and Crowley felt scared for some reason. It was so odd, Aziraphale’s brother looked absolutely nothing like him. They were opposites in every single way. He had nothing of the warmth or kindness that Aziraphale so naturally carried with him. 

“This must be Tony,” Gabriel replied, reaching a large hand out to Crowley, which Crowley took with his best ‘firm businessman’ handshake. 

“Crowley is just fine.” 

“So,” Gabriel started. “Why don’t you tell us what an editor does, besides going to fancy lunches and letting other people do their work?” 

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, who was openly growing more annoyed with each word Gabriel spoke. 

Mrs. Johnson, bless her, just turned to Aziraphale and said, “Oh, lunches! That does sound like fun, no wonder you like being an editor so much.” 

Gabriel chuckled without any humor behind it. 

“No, Mrs. Johnson, Aziraphale isn’t an editor,” He gestured to Crowley. “Tony, here, is the editor. Aziraphale is the editor’s  _ assistant _ .” 

Mrs. Johnson made a polite “oh” face and excused herself to get another drink. There was a beat of awkward silence before Aziraphale spoke up. 

“Gabriel, can I have a quick word?” Aziraphale asked, sounding exhausted. Crowley took his cue and left them to find more snacks and avoid talking to anyone. “That was quite a first impression, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, give me a break, little brother,” Gabriel knew Aziraphale hated to be called that. He was in his 40s for God's sake. “You show up after all this time, with your boss who you hated, and now he’s your what? Boyfriend?” 

Aziraphale sighed.  “We just got here, can we please not fight? At least here?” Aziraphale and his brother have never really seen eye-to-eye and were known for some of their larger arguments, often loud enough that all of Tadfield could hear them screaming. 

Gabriel had wanted Aziraphale to stay in Tadfield and help him run the businesses that their parents left behind. Aziraphale had wanted to move to London and pursue a career in writing and editing. Cue tension.

“I just never took you for a guy who had to sleep his way to the top, and then didn’t even get to the top,” Gabriel sneered at him. 

Something snapped inside Aziraphale just then. 

“Gabriel, listen to me, Crowley is one of the most successful editors in London, he made editor-in-chief in his 40s, is one of the youngest people in the company’s history to do so, and he is one of the most respected people in the industry,” Aziraphale was getting visibly angry and was trying desperately to keep his voice down. 

“He’s your meal ticket, that’s all, and you brought him here to meet your family?” Gabriel gestured around the party. 

“Oh no, Gabriel, he isn’t my meal ticket - he’s my fiancé.” 

The words hung in the air. Aziraphale might have said them a little louder than he intended. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fallout from aziraphale's little announcement plus some shenanigans

The people around Aziraphale and Gabriel grew quiet. 

“What did you just say?” Gabriel asked, a look of shock coloring his features. At least he didn’t sound angry, just sort of confused. 

“You heard me,” Aziraphale sniffed. “We’re getting married.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know what his original plan for telling his family had been, but it wasn’t in the middle of a heat-of-the-moment argument with Gabriel, that’s for sure. But now seemed as good a time as any. In for a penny, as they say. 

While this very important conversation was being had semi-publicly, Crowley was standing in the other room, staring at the array of finger foods. He poked at what looked to be jellied eels. 

“You should try some!” Mrs. Johnson said as she grabbed some of the concoction to put on her plate. “They’re a tradition, Tracy makes them every gathering.” 

Crowley smiled at her politely and shook his head. 

“Ah, no thank you, I, um, I don’t really like fish all that much,” Crowley glanced back over at the jellied monstrosity and wondered if you could even consider that “fish.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll like it,” Mrs. Johnson hovered a serving over his plate. “Just give it a try.” 

Crowley watched in horror as she dumped a hearty pile onto his plate. He thought about how best to escape this situation without having to actually put that stuff anywhere near his mouth when Aziraphale clinked his glass from the other room and Crowley and Mrs. Johnson made their way over. They joined the small crowd, who had gathered around Aziraphale. 

Man, Gabriel looked pissed. Crowley wondered, idly, what they had talked about when Crowley left. He wasn’t entirely sure, but whatever it was, Gabriel was probably in the wrong. Crowley didn’t like him, and not just because he called him “Tony,” twice. It was the way he talked to Aziraphale. Like he was better than him. He didn’t see how hard Aziraphale worked every day, how well he did his job. 

Crowley remembered that part of their deal was promoting Aziraphale to editor and publishing his manuscript. Honestly, it would be worth it even more now just to see the look on Gabriel’s face when he heard of Aziraphale’s newfound success. 

As they stood idly by while Aziraphale made sure everyone was listening, Mrs. Johnson leaned over. 

“Go on, take a bite, then." She smiled at Crowley and who was he to deny such a polite lady? Plus, it can’t be that bad if it’s a tradition. 

Crowley scooped up a forkful and brought it to his mouth just as Aziraphale announced, loudly, “Crowley and I are getting married!” 

Crowley began choking, having gasped mid-bite. 

Aziraphale looked up with a worried expression. 

“Crowley?” He walked over to him and began patting his back gently. “Are you alright, dear?” 

Crowley took a few deep breaths and stopped coughing after a few seconds. Imagine dying by choking on jellied eel. God, how embarrassing that would've been. 

“Yes,” Crowley sounded a little hoarse. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, angel.” 

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. Mrs. Johnson cooed and Crowley looked over at her, he had completely forgotten that she had even been standing next to him. 

“Oh how adorable, he calls you ‘angel’?” Mrs. Johnson was positively beaming. “That’s very sweet.” 

Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley’s waist and used the other to pat his chest lightly. 

“Yes, he can be very sweet,” Aziraphale replied. “Just the nicest man ever, so kind, and charmin-” 

“Okay, that’s enough of that, don’t you think?” Crowley tried desperately to ignore his natural response, which is to vehemently deny all of those things. 

“This calls for a celebration,” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, turning toward the party. “Let’s open some more champagne, shall we?” 

As she waddled off into the crowd, who were now emptying their glasses for refills, Crowley turned toward Aziraphale. Their noses were almost touching. 

“Did ya really think right then was the  _ best _ time?” Crowley said out of the side of his mouth.

Aziraphale blushed. 

“Yes, it was absolutely perfect timing, nothing went wrong and it was smooth, flawless, even.” 

Crowley couldn’t help the small smirk that came over his mouth. 

“Flawless?” He asked. “I almost died.” 

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and scoffed. 

“You did not ‘almost’ die.” 

Before Crowley could argue that he really did have a near-jellied-eel-based-death experience, a woman with light brown curly hair approached them. She looked about their age and was smiling sheepishly at Aziraphale, who immediately released Crowley from his hold. Crowley instantly felt a little colder without Aziraphale’s brief warmth pressed into his side. 

“Michael!” Aziraphale sounded genuinely surprised. “Oh my god what are you doing here? How are you” 

“Anathema invited me, she said it would be a fun surprise, and from your face, I guess she was right,” Michael smiled. She had a sort of stern, but elegant beauty about her. She had gold tones in the makeup all throughout her face. 

“Right…” Aziraphale looked over at Anathema, who was by the windows with Tracy, pointedly not staring at their interaction. 

“But, we are being so rude right now,” Michael gestured to Crowley. “Hi.” 

“Oh right, yes,” Aziraphale turned back to Crowley. “Crowley, this is Michael. She was, er, well she’s my ex, but we’ve been friends for ages.” 

Crowley reached out and shook Michael’s hand. She had a very firm handshake. Crowley had to assume that whatever she did, she did it with passion and confidence. She was probably also in charge and for good reason. 

_Aziraphale’s ex, huh?_ Crowley thought to himself. He could kind of see it. Aziraphale seemed like the kind of guy who would let himself get stepped on and she seemed like the kind of girl who would stop the feet from stepping. And if Aziraphale’s reaction to her presence was anything to go by, they were also very close in general. 

“Well, absolutely congratulations to the two of you,” Michael clapped her hands together. “So, did I miss the story?” 

Michael sat down on the couch in front of where Crowley and Aziraphale stood. A few onlookers leaned in, as well.    
  
“The story?” Aziraphale asked, noticing the shift in attention. 

“Of the proposal, silly,” Tracy piped up from her seat next to Michael on the couch. “You know, how a man proposes says a lot about his character.” 

By now, the entire party had caught wind of the potential to hear the story of their engagement. And as they settled into their seats around Aziraphale and Crowley, the two exchanged a look and cursed themselves inwardly for not coming up with a collaborative story.    
  
“Yes, angel, why don’t you tell them?” Crowley said, clearly attempting to pass on the responsibility to Aziraphale. 

Crowley smiled mischievously. 

“Oh, but you love telling it, don’t you darling?” Aziraphale said, joining the ladies on the couch. 

Crowley short circuited a little at ‘darling,’ and found himself completely unarmed, now standing in a group of about 50 people that he didn’t know. Right. He just had to come up with the most romantic proposal in history. He could do that. Lord knows he’s read his fair share of romance novels in his line of work. 

“Well, it started with dinner at the Ritz,” Crowley began. “I had the reservations made months in advance, because I just knew I had to propose, but I wasn’t quite sure I would ever have the guts if I didn’t give myself a due date.” 

Crowley had the audience hanging on his every word. This was what he loved most about storytelling, the captive audience. 

“I was nervous the entire time, kept fiddling with the box in my suit jacket pocket,” Crowley mimicked twirling a box in his hands. “We finished dinner, and I asked if he fancied a walk in the park. We got outside and about 15 feet in, it started raining. Not just a light drizzle, mind you, it was pouring. I went to turn for cover under a tree, but he went to turn back to the car. I shouted ‘What are you doing?’ over the rain and he looked at me like I was insane and said, ‘Going back to the car?’ I don’t know why, but we spent the next few minutes arguing over which option was better and would get us out of the rain the fastest. We hadn’t even noticed that we were both already soaked through.” 

Crowley glanced around to make sure everyone was still listening. Oh, they were in the palm of his hand. 

“I, of course, wanted to stay in the park and wait out the storm so I could propose, but of course Aziraphale didn’t know that and was trying to be all sensible. So, I said, ‘Can’t we just live a little? Be a little spontaneous and stay in the park?’ I think that made him more annoyed with me than he already was. He huffed and gave me this look and said, ‘You are the most ridiculous creature I have ever met.’ I think it was right then when I realized it was the moment. So, I got down on one knee, in the middle of the pouring rain, and asked him to marry me.” 

Crowley was obviously pleased with himself, Aziraphale observed, and he should be. The whole party was eating it up, gasping and ‘ooh’-ing and ‘ah’-ing at the right moments. 

“He cried, obviously-” 

“I did not cry,” Aziraphale interrupted.

“You did, and he met me on the ground and kissed me right there, rain be damned,” Crowley finished, practically oozing self-satisfaction at his fake proposal story. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, my sensitive boy,” Tracy cooed, rubbing Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“Yes, yes, I’m very sensitive and soft and all those other sorts of things,” Aziraphale shrugged off Tracy’s hands and smiled up at Crowley. 

“Hey, why don’t we see a kiss from you two lovebirds?” Anathema suggested, her arms crossed in front of her and a playful smirk on her face. 

Aziraphale immediately began to flush. He attempted to will it away, but it was no use. He got up from the couch and stood next to Crowley, who looked like he wasn’t faring any better. Well, this is why they had decided to practice. Aziraphale pecked Crowley on the cheek like he had in the car. 

“Oh, there we go!” Aziraphale said. “Now, let’s all-” 

“Come on, Aziraphale, a  _ real _ kiss,” Tracy exclaimed. “Kiss him on the mouth, like you mean it. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him!" 

Tracy’s chant flowed through the whole party and soon all of the guests were chanting and clinking on their glasses. 

Finally Aziraphale sighed and turned to Crowley, who was looking a bit nervous. Aziraphale reminded himself that they had already established boundaries in the car, and that as long as he didn’t snog Crowley to death, they would be fine. Which he wouldn’t do in front of his entire family, anyways. Or in private. Oh Lord, what was he thinking? 

Aziraphale lifted his hand up to cup Crowley’s face gently and rubbed a thumb over his cheek, hoping to emit some sort of calm, soothing energy, and he leaned in. 

The kiss was brief. Crowley’s lips were very soft under Aziraphale’s own, and there was the faintest taste of cherry. Probably from that lip balm Crowley is always obsessively applying and reapplying. He felt something warm unfurl in his chest and he relaxed into the kiss, moving his lips ever so slightly. Crowley mirrored him and stepped in a little closer to the circle of Aziraphale’s arms. 

Something switched. The kiss had gone from a timid peck, a little uncomfortable and ill-prepared for, to, well, nice. Kissing Crowley was nice. Kissing his boss, notorious evil-doer, and professional asshole Anthony J. Crowley was nice.

A little hum escaped Crowley’s lips as he pulled away and smiled at Aziraphale, cheeks dusted a light shade of pink. He looked kind of adorable. Aziraphale moved in to give him a quick second kiss, only lasting a second. 

There were cheers happening around them, but Aziraphale didn’t quite hear them. All he could hear was his heart thundering away in his chest. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my god there was only one bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late chapter! i read "in this house we remain" by commodorecliche this morning and spent the rest of the afternoon a blubbering mess. i highly recommend that fic - it was heartwrenching and beautiful and sometimes you just need a good cry.

_ What the fuck was that?  _ Crowley thought as they were led down the hallway with their bags. 

They had kissed - which, sure, fine, yeah, they were supposed to. That was part of ensuring that this ridiculous plan worked. But the kiss was, well- it was something. 

It wasn’t  _ bad _ , it was good. It was great, even. Aziraphale smelled amazing and his lips were soft and the way he cupped Crowley’s cheek was so… tender. It was downright romantic. And Crowley  _ liked _ it. When Aziraphale had moved in for a second, quick kiss after the first one ended, Crowley thought he must have spoken his thoughts out loud because that is exactly what he wanted to happen. He could have stood there for hours just exchanging soft, sweet kisses with Aziraphale. 

Which was bad.

Really bad. 

Because there was no way in hell he was going to catch actual feelings for his future fake husband. Especially because there was no way Aziraphale would feel the same. Aziraphale was doing this to save his job, which was completely understandable. Crowley wasn’t sure he would do this, himself, if anyone had asked. He could be a bit of a nightmare to deal with. 

And that’s how he liked it. It kept people at a distance, no one could get too close. His last relationship with Luca hadn’t ended so well. Crowley had been heartbroken and torn down and didn’t leave his office for days. So, he decided, this was better. Be cold, be a bitch, and no one would hurt him again. 

He shook his head, as if trying to physically erase his disastrous break-up with his ex-boyfriend from eight years ago. 

The hallway went for what felt like ages before they finally reached a large bedroom. It was quaint, with lodge-themed decorations and light shades of beige, brown, yellow, red, orange, and forest green littering every surface. 

Anathema put her hands out in a sweeping gesture. 

“Well, here we are,” She moved to open the curtains, which revealed a large sliding glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the lake. “This is your bedroom.” 

Crowley looked around. The view was breathtaking. And there was only one bed. 

“Ah, this is wonderful,” Crowley said, looking at Tracy and Anathema. “But, er, where is Aziraphale’s room?” 

Aziraphale shot Crowley a look like he was a dumbass. 

“Oh, dearie, we are under no impression that you two haven’t shared a bed,” Tracy patted Crowley’s arm. “You’ll both be staying in here.” 

Just then a small black and white dog came running into the room and went right up to Crowley, who immediately flinched away from the barking fluff ball. 

“Oh god, what is that?” Crowley said, backing away.

Aziraphale scooped up the dog and let it lick his face thoroughly. 

“This is Dog, and he belongs to Adam,” Aziraphale said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

Just then Adam and the rest of the Them came running down the hallway and stopped at the doorway. 

“There you are!” Adam exclaimed. “Come here, Dog!” 

The little dog jumped out of Aziraphale’s arms and ran up to Adam, who was looking at the group of adults sheepishly. 

“Sorry about Dog, Aziraphale,” Adam looked down at Dog. “He just got excited to see a new person, is all.” 

Crowley forced a small smile. He didn’t like dogs. They were cute, that he couldn’t deny, but he didn’t like how clingy they were. It had looked quite adorable in Aziraphale’s arms, though. 

_ Stop that, _ Crowley scolded himself. 

“Just be sure not to let him outside, Adam,” Anathema said, pointing up. “Or else the eagles will get him.” 

Adam made wide eyes at Anathema and then at the Them. They all nodded. Adam looked back at Anathema and nodded like a soldier receiving orders. 

“We’ll keep him out of trouble, don’t worry,” Adam turned to leave. “And sorry, again!” 

The Them scurried off down the hallway and out some door, leaving the room strangely quiet after the small chaos. 

Tracy and Anathema made to leave the room. Tracy grabbed something from the closet right next to the room and Anathema clapped her hands together. 

“Okay, so there are extra towels and linens and things in the closet, blankets are in the cedar chest in case you get chilly,” Anathema rubbed her arms as a phantom chill ran through her. “And trust me, it will get chilly.” 

Tracy returned holding a large blanket, with some sort of intricately woven pattern on it. She handed it to Crowley. It looked very old and delicate. 

“Use this for when you’re cuddling up for warmth tonight,” She smoothed her hand over the top. “It has special powers.” 

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose and appeared to be blushing very hard, which only served to pique Crowley’s curiosity. 

“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “What sort of special powers?” 

Tracy gave him a matronly smile. 

“It’s called the lovers cover, it increases your libido tenfold,” Tracy gave a big wink before turning to leave while Crowley stood in place with his jaw dropped. 

Crowley didn’t know what else to do so he set the- the  _ lovers cover _ down on the bed and faked a large yawn. 

“Well, we had quite the drive and what with the party, which was lovely, we really should be getting to sleep,” Crowley said. “Thank you so much for everything, I know me coming was super last minute.” 

All said and done, Crowley really did feel bad for imposing on this kind family. They didn’t do anything to him, it was all his own stupid fault anyways for leaving the country while waiting for a visa to go through. But they had all been very welcoming (minus Gabriel) and he was grateful to them in more ways than they could probably imagine. 

“Oh it’s no problem at all,” Tracy flapped her hand at Crowley. “Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve seen Aziraphale and even longer since he’s brought someone home, so we’re happy to have you.” 

Aziraphale’s blush deepened. 

“Right, thank you, guys, really,” Aziraphale began lightly pushing Tracy and Anathema out the door. “But we should get some rest. Good night, love you!” 

“Good night,” Anathema turned and motioned for Tracy to do the same. 

“Good night,” Tracy said in a tone that suggested something that wasn’t sleep was about to happen and then looking meaningfully at the lovers cover, further proving her intention with the tone used. 

Aziraphale closed the door as they left and visibly relaxed. 

“I’m, er, sorry about them,” Aziraphale said, not meeting Crowley’s eyes. 

Crowley shrugged. 

“It’s okay, they’re really sweet.” 

There was an awkward silence. 

“So, it’s, uh, been awhile since you were last home, huh?” Crowley moved over to his suitcase and began unpacking, looking for his PJs. “They seemed to really miss you.” 

Aziraphale sat down in a chair tucked into the corner of the room. 

“Yes, well, I haven’t had a lot of vacation time over the last five years,” Aziraphale mumbled. 

Crowley cringed inwardly. Yes, that would be his fault, wouldn’t it? 

“Ah, sorry,” Crowley was beginning to believe that this trip was God’s fun little way of punishing him, specifically. The whole thing felt like A Christmas Carol, and he was starring as Scrooge. 

Crowley found his pajamas. Which were a band tee and a pair of black briefs. He, for some reason, didn’t consider that they’d be sharing a room. Probably because Crowley knew they weren’t really engaged, but Aziraphale’s family certainly didn’t. 

“Can you turn around or close your eyes or something?” Crowley asked Aziraphale, who just looked at him. 

Aziraphale squinted and covered his eyes dramatically. 

“Are they all the way covered?” Crowley asked after a few seconds. 

“Oh dear Lord, dear, can you please just get dressed?” Aziraphale sounded grumpy. He was probably just as tired as Crowley. 

Crowley got dressed fairly quickly and then gave Aziraphale the ‘OK’ to uncover his eyes. When he did, his mouth made a little ‘o’ shape at Crowley’s pajamas. Crowley looked downright cuddly. He had on a soft, grey band shirt. It looked at least a decade old and worn soft from many nights of sleep. The shirt was a little big, and hung low, but Aziraphale could see that Crowley had on briefs underneath. Right, so no sleep trousers, then. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Crowley deadpanned. 

Aziraphale thought he looked, well, vulnerable. It was like he was seeing Crowley without a mask on and it felt far too intimate. He glanced away quickly. 

“Sorry, you-” Aziraphale cut himself off. He definitely wasn’t going to say what he was thinking. 

Crowley just rolled his eyes and went to get under the covers. 

“Uh, what do you want to do about the…” Crowley gestured to the bed. 

Aziraphale took a few blankets and pillows out of the cedar chest and set up a small makeshift bed on the floor next to the fireplace. 

“I’ll sleep down here, no worries,” Aziraphale assured him. “I know you’re used to the  _ finer _ things in life, so I’m fine on the floor.” 

Crowley chewed his lip. He felt really bad about making Aziraphale sleep on the floor at his own house. Part of his brain was screaming at him to offer to share the bed. That part was also the one that thought snuggling up to Aziraphale to keep warm that night sounded delightful, so he promptly ignored it. 

“Okay,” Crowley climbed into the bed. It was very fluffy, big, and noticeably empty, just him in the middle. 

Aziraphale reached over to turn off the light before settling down in his own blankets and sheets. Crowley folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes. 

“Goodnight, angel,” Crowley whispered, half-hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t hear it. 

“Goodnight, dear,” Aziraphale replied. It sounded like he was smiling. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley's guilt over dragging aziraphale into this continues to eat him alive and some Dog shenanigans ensue

Crowley was having a pleasant dream. 

He was out in the forest surrounding the Fell home and it was a beautifully warm day. He was laying out on a blanket with a basket full of food next to him. His head was in Aziraphale’s lap and Aziraphale was lightly petting his hair. He’d stop and scratch at his scalp every so often and Crowley would let out a soft, contented noise. 

It was nice. Domestic, even. 

Aziraphale leaned down, kissed Crowley, and pulled away smiling at him softly. He felt warm both inside and out. 

Then, he heard the sound of footsteps. Crowley shot up and looked around, whipping his head from side to side. When he turned back to Aziraphale, he was being dragged away in handcuffs. 

“Angel-” Crowley went to reach out to him, but he found himself held back by a large man. “Let go of me!” 

“Not so fast, Mr. Crowley,” The large man roared. “We know you’ve been lying. It’s out of the country, for you. For good. And your little friend is on his way to federal prison.” 

Crowley squirmed trying to get out of the man’s grasp. He just wanted to get to Aziraphale, tell him it’ll be okay and he’ll figure something out. But it was too late. There was no time left and Aziraphale was being dragged off to jail, his family sobbing as they watched. 

And it was all Crowley’s fault. 

A beeping sound blared through his mind and he was suddenly awake, in the guest bed at the Fell residence. 

His head hurt and his eyes could barely open. The source of the beeping was his phone, which was ringing loudly somewhere. 

“Aziraphale. Aziraphale. Phone!” Crowley reached a hand out and felt along the bedside table for his Blackberry, knocking over various knicknacks on his search. “Ow! Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale groaned from the floor and rolled over. 

“Jacket. Right pocket.” 

Crowley got up, bumped his shin into the bedside table, and finally plucked his phone out of his pocket and answered it. Jameson. Of course. 

“Jameson! Hello, I was just- Jameson? Hello?” Crowley yelled into his phone. “Jameson, yes! The vampires, of course, of course, I know, it’s just- Hello? Sorry, I have terrible service out here.” 

Aziraphale groaned again and put his pillow in front of his face, trying to ignore Crowley screaming into this phone at a distressed YA novelist at 8 o’clock in the morning. 

Crowley bumped into a few more things while trying to get a better signal and Aziraphale sighed. 

“Crowley for God’s sake, the front yard has excellent service,” Aziraphale shot him a death glare. 

Crowley, suddenly remembering how early it was, started whispering to Jameson. 

“I’ll just, Jameson, just give me one minute,” Crowley slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and took his phone call outside. 

He ran down the long hall and tried to open the front door as quietly as he could. The sun was blaring right into his face and he regretted forgetting his sunglasses on the bedside table. He went into the front yard where there was, admittedly, much better service.

“Jameson, buddy, I know you’re nervous about this new sexy direction, but I promise it will work out,” Crowley put on his best persuasion voice. “I understand this isn’t where you had wanted to take it originally, but young adults practically beg to be sold a hot fantasy guy.” 

Just then, Adam’s dog, er, Dog, came around from the back of the house and started barking at Crowley. Crowley covered his phone with his hand and yelled at Dog to go back inside. 

“Shoo, go on, leave!” Crowley flicked his hand at Dog, who stared at him curiously. “No, not you, Jameson.” 

It was here that Crowley noticed the eagle sitting perched on an evergreen about 20 yards away. The eagle was eyeing up Dog, who was now sitting and not making any movements while Crowley tried to reassure Jameson that vampires can get erections, obviously.

_ Don’t you dare,  _ Crowley thought at the eagle, as if it could read his mind. 

The eagle leaned forward and launched itself off of the perch, heading directly toward Dog. Crowley ran toward Dog, trying to intercept the eagle and failed as the eagle snatched Dog up easily and began to ascend. 

“Oh god- no, sorry, Jameson, not you,” Crowley said, running after the eagle as best he could in his bare feet. “I completely understand your apprehension, but you’re going to be big, I just know it.” 

The eagle swooped down close to Crowley and he lunged for Dog, missing by only a hair.    
  
“Dammit!” Crowley sighed. “Jameson, listen, you’re talented, you’re an amazing storyteller, and your characters are relatable. You’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

The eagle came close, again, and this time, in a panic, Crowley threw his phone at the eagle, who then dropped Dog into his arms. 

“Yes!” Crowley breathed a sigh of relief, before realizing what he had done. “Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!” 

He ran after the eagle, who had his Blackberry in its talons instead of Dog. Crowley held Dog up in sacrifice. He couldn’t just leave Jameson hanging like that, he was already teetering on the edge. 

“Take the dog, take it!” Crowley wiggled Dog in the air at the eagle. 

It was then that Aziraphale walked into the kitchen. He had decided to just get up after Crowley left, since he was already awake. He heard Anathema and Tracy in the kitchen making tea. They stood by the window and made cooing noises and sipped from their mugs. 

“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Tracey said, nudging Anathema. 

Aziraphale got out his favorite mug, one Tracy always kept in her cupboards, and went about making his morning tea. As he stirred in a sugar cube, he wondered what could possibly be taking Crowley so long? Jameson probably just needed some quick validation. 

Aziraphale joined Tracy and Anathema at the window. 

“Good morning, dears, have you… seen… Crowley… oh, dear Lord,” Aziraphale spotted Crowley holding up Dog and running through the front yard in his jeans, with no shoes on. 

“Isn’t it adorable?” Tracy asked. “He’s playing with Dog.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know what he was exactly looking at, but one thing he could guarantee was that Crowley was not playing with Dog. He looked insane. He was also screaming at the… sky? Anathema turned toward Aziraphale. 

“As  _ adorable _ as it is watching your fiancé run around our yard like a madman at 8:30 in the morning, could you please go get him? We have a whole little fun day planned out as a way to get to know him better,” Anathema smiled, pleased at her plan. She was probably hoping to also embarrass Aziraphale as much as she could and/or get the gossip on what’s been going on in his life in the city. Terrific. 

Aziraphale sipped the rest of his tea and set the mug down on the counter. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll go tell him,” Aziraphale wrapped his cardigan around himself tighter before stepping outside and approaching Crowley, who was still running around with Dog in hand. He could hear Crowley saying something as he got closer. 

“Take the dog, instead! Please, please,” Crowley didn’t seem to notice Aziraphale's approach. 

Aziraphale stared at him for a second. 

“What the Hell are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, giving Crowley a once-over. 

Crowley turned to Aziraphale and then motioned up to an eagle that was flying toward the forest. His expression made it seem like it was supposed to be obvious to Aziraphale what had happened. Aziraphale just looked at him more. 

“The eagle took Dog- I saved him, but my phone- and it just flew, so I thought, maybe- I,” Crowley was panting from running around. 

“Are you inebriated?” Aziraphale asked, peering at Crowley and seriously questioning his current state of sanity. 

“What? No? You just saw me like 20 minutes ago,” Crowley tucked Dog under his arm. “The eagle, it took my phone and I was on the line with Jameson and now I don’t have a phone.” 

Ah, okay, that made more sense. Aziraphale could put the rest of the story together from there. Crowley came out here, was on the phone with Jameson, Dog got snatched by an eagle, Crowley threw his phone to save Dog, the eagle took the phone instead of Dog. Got it. 

Aziraphale was relieved. At least Crowley hadn’t actually gone cracked out of his mind. 

“That’s all fine, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, patting him on the arm. “We can get you a new phone at the shop in town. Same number and everything. You’ll be fine.” 

Crowley looked helplessly between Aziraphale, Dog, and the direction the eagle had flown in. 

“Really?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded. “Oh, okay. Great.” 

Crowley set down Dog, who immediately took off across the yard. He walked over to Aziraphale and stood in front of him. 

“Well, crisis averted.” 

“I’m happy to hear it, now you have to go get ready,” Aziraphale nodded back toward the house. “Tracy and Anathema are taking you out for a day of ‘planned activities,’ though I’m not sure what the activities are. I think it’s a surprise.” 

Crowley made a face. 

“I hate surprises. I’m not going.” Crowley crossed his arms. 

“You are, and you’re going to give me a hug so they don’t think we’re fighting,” Aziraphale moved in to hug Crowley. “Come on, there we go.” 

Crowley tensed up as soon as the hug started and Aziraphale tried not to be too offended. He thought himself to be a pretty good hugger, but he knew that Crowley had an aversion to affection. So he thought. 

Another beat passed and Crowley melted into the hug and brought his arms up to embrace Aziraphale back. He inhaled Aziraphale’s leftover cologne from the day before. Aziraphale smelled like sunshine and was very, very warm. Forgetting himself for a second, Crowley pulled back and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. 

Aziraphale looked very pleased with this performance and beamed at him for a second before shooing him back into the house. 

“Now, go get ready. And who knows, maybe you’ll even have  _ fun _ . Do you remember what that is? Fun? Joy? Being with people?” Aziraphale said sarcastically. 

“Maybe,” Crowley grumbled back. 

He hoped he didn’t live to regret this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gabriel and aziraphale have a conversation

A few hours later, Aziraphale was walking toward the family gym. An area that he avoided at all costs for a few reasons, but one of them being that it was Gabriel’s favorite space. He worked from there most of the day and rarely left. It was with the goal of seeing Gabriel that was now leading Aziraphale right to it. 

Crowley and the girls had already left. They were off to town for their plans, plans that Aziraphale still didn’t get to know about even after politely prodding at Tracy. Whatever it was, Crowley was an adult and he could certainly handle himself. It would be fine. 

He walked into the gym and closed the sliding glass doors. Loud rock music was blaring through the sound system and Aziraphale could see Gabriel was on the treadmill, a computer sitting on the ledge in front of him. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and Gabriel looked up at him. 

“Uh Anathema said you wanted to see me?” Aziraphale hated how talking to his brother always felt like you were going into your boss’s office when you knew you were about to be fired. 

Gabriel hopped off the treadmill and jogged over to Aziraphale. 

“Ah, Aziraphale, just the man I wanted to see!” Gabriel motioned around him. “What do you think of the new equipment? Tracy said that it all uses ‘green’ technology. Better for the environment or something, I guess.” 

Aziraphale looked around. He honestly couldn’t tell much of the difference between the old and new equipment, as he’s probably spent about 10 total minutes in here overall. Gabriel turned the music off. 

“Yes, it’s, erm, very nice,” Aziraphale hoped that was the answer Gabriel was looking for. 

Gabriel nodded and looked around the gym. 

“Aziraphale, it’s come to my attention that I might have been a bit harsh yesterday.” 

Aziraphale tried not to look shocked at Gabriel’s statement. It was true, of course, but hearing Gabriel admit to that was something rare. 

“I just,” Gabriel started. “It was just a little bit of a shock, you understand? I mean, announcing that you’re  _ engaged _ when we didn’t even know you were dating. In fact, I would have put money on you downright hating that Tony fellow.” 

Aziraphale cringed at the nickname. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I owe you an apology,” Gabriel dabbed his forehead off with a towel that was hanging on the treadmill. “I’m sorry for how I acted. Really.” 

Aziraphale knew this apology was only coming because Anathema must have said something to him. But still, he wasn’t going to pass up an apology. 

“No offense taken, Gabriel, I know it was quite surprising.” 

“Good,” Gabriel turned around and grabbed a protein shake from the mini fridge. “There’s one more thing I want to talk about.” 

Aziraphale sighed. He knew this was coming. It came up every single time he was home and why should this trip be any different? 

“Gabriel, I know you want to talk about me being a partner with the family business,” Aziraphale said, sternly. “And you already know my answer. I appreciate the offer, really I do, but my goal is to be an editor.” 

Gabriel’s shoulders tensed. 

“Now, little brother, I think I have been very lenient, here,” Gabriel turned back to Aziraphale. “I have let you fool around in London for long enough, don’t you think?” 

Aziraphale saw red. After all these years, Gabriel still didn’t think what Aziraphale was doing with his life had any worth. It was as if he had been doing nothing but frolicking around the city, getting paid to be someone’s bitch. Well, maybe he had a point. 

“God, I can’t believe that you still don’t take what I do seriously,” Aziraphale crossed his arms. “And you haven’t ‘let me’ do anything. I’m my own person, an adult, with feelings and aspirations and I’m truly very sorry that this doesn’t involve being a partner. Why don’t you ask Sandalphon?” 

Aziraphale has had this exact conversation with Gabriel so many times, he could probably recite exactly what Gabriel was going to say back to him. Something about how Sandalphon isn’t good with clients.

“Sandalphon isn’t a people person, Aziraphale.” 

There it is. 

“Gabriel, I wish I could do this for you, I really do,” Aziraphale was lying, of course, but no need to add insult to injury. “But I can’t. I like my life in London, it makes me happy. Editing makes me happy. I’m sorry.” 

Gabriel jumped back onto the treadmill and began playing the loud music, again. 

“If that’s how you feel, then I have nothing more to discuss with you,” Gabriel began running. 

Aziraphale had had enough. His brother always did this. He treated him like shit and then when Aziraphale finally grew a spine and fought back, Gabriel would just end the conversation. Just like that. Always getting in the last word. 

“You know what, Gabriel?” Aziraphale reached over and turned off the music. “Apology not accepted. Have a great rest of your workout.” 

As Aziraphale stormed out of the gym, he felt tears begin to form in his eyes. 

_ No, you will not cry, _ Aziraphale scolded himself. 

He cannot believe that at his age he still let Gabriel get to him. Aziraphale knows that Gabriel needs a partner at the firm. He knows that Sandalphon isn’t up to the job and that Aziraphale would, arguably, do very well in that position. He knows that Gabriel has been under a lot of stress taking care of everything since their parents died. But this isn't what Aziraphale wants and doesn't what he wants matter? 

When Aziraphale left for London, it was under the pretense that if things didn’t work out in a few years, Aziraphale would come back and work with Gabriel. That’s why Aziraphale fought so hard to be seen, why he wanted his own manuscript published. If Aziraphale could show Gabriel that chasing his dreams would prove fruitful, he could live knowing that he had made the right decision in leaving. 

Yes, Aziraphale had a bit of a rough start. Got stuck with a bitchy boss, for one. But he was on his way now. Was that, in part, due to his boss needing a fake fiancé in order to stay in the country and not be deported? Well, yes, but it still was going to result in reward. Well-deserved reward, if Aziraphale toots his own horn for a second. 

Aziraphale closed the door to his and Crowley’s room and sat on the edge of the bed, putting his head in between his legs. 

God, he hoped Crowley’s plan worked. Not just so that he could get the promotion and the publishing deal, but because if Gabriel found out that it was all fake… Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d ever be taken seriously again. 

He threw himself back and half-laid on the bed. 

He was almost tempted to ask God why him? Why did She choose him to be going through all of this right now? But, he hadn’t spoken to Her in a long while and it was sort of bad faith to only start while in the middle of a crisis. 

“What am I going to do?” Aziraphale asked the ceiling. 

He turned his head to check the time. He had no idea when Crowley and the girls would be back, but he kind of wished Crowley was here right now. At the very least he would be a sympathetic ear.  Aziraphale curled up into a ball on the bed. He hoped Crowley was having a much better time than he was,  _ wherever _ he was. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley finally finds out what anathema has in store for their day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 10 was kinda short so i figured i'd post another, bonus chapter today to make up for it! if you've seen The Proposal, you already know what's about to happen....

Crowley followed Anathema and Tracy into a nondescript building through a side-door. They had entered through the alley. Nothing good could come of this. 

Anathema had refused to tell Crowley what they were doing the entire morning as she insisted it would “spoil the surprise.” They entered what appeared to be a club of some sorts, with flashing colorful lights and pulsating music. There were a few people scattered here and there, but to be fair it was only about 2 p.m. 

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the stage. 

It had a stripper pole on it. 

Tracy and Anathema were heading toward a table where Michael already sat, drinks ordered. Crowley was still frozen a few feet away, whipping his head back and forth to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and that Aziraphale’s 80-year-old godmother really was placing herself front and center of a strip show. 

Anathema waved him over to the table. 

“What… is this?” Crowley asked, sitting down and taking a drink from Michael. 

“Only the best kept secret in all of Tadfield,” Anathema announced, proudly. “Oh, Crowley, I really think you’re going to love it.” 

While Crowley was growing to like Anathema, he wasn’t so sure about her statement. 

Just then, the music changed to “Witchy Woman” by the Eagles and the crowd went wild. People (all women, Crowley noted) gathered all along the edge of the stage, bringing out wads of crisp dollar bills. Crowley could only imagine the kind of beefed up supermodel guy that would make all the women in this town go crazy like this. 

A flash of smoke blasted in front of the curtain and as it settled, there stood… Shadwell? 

Crowley blinked a few times to make sure he had that right. Yep. That was definitely Shadwell from the party standing up there, wearing what appeared to be a plague doctor’s mask with only a black speedo. Crowley must’ve looked shocked, because Anathema laughed and gave him a friendly slap on the back. 

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Crowley, you’ll catch flies like that,” Anathema couldn’t seem to stop giggling. “Shadwell is the only exotic dancer for miles of this place, so he’s all we have. The women, and some men, make it work and Shadwell works it.” 

Tracy waved her dollar bills wildly as Shadwell kneeled by her and scooped it up to put in his speedo. Crowley continued staring and tried to think back to when he could have possibly hit his head hard enough to produce such an elaborate daydream. 

Michael produced a veil with “BRIDE” written on the crown and Anathema plopped it onto Crowley’s head. A few things were wrong with this, one of them being quite the  _ assumption _ about the power-dynamics in Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. 

Before Crowley could process exactly what was happening, Tracy had him by the arm and was pushing him onstage, where a chair sat. 

“Come on Shadwell, show him what he’ll be missing when he gets hitched,” Tracy yelled through her hands, which were cupped around her mouth. 

_ Oh,  _ Crowley thought.  _ I see. This is a bachelor party.  _

In a way, it was kind of sweet for them to want to do this for him. They had only just met officially yesterday and Crowley could only imagine the horror stories that Aziraphale had told them about Crowley as his boss. Yet here they were, trying their best to throw some sort of Frankenstein bachelor party together. It was nice if not horribly misguided. 

“No, I don’t think-” Crowley started to say, protesting as Tracy pulled him further onto the stage. 

“Come ‘ere, laddie,” Shadwell said, grabbing Crowley’s arm. 

Crowley tried to resist a little more, but decided in the end to just let it happen. Maybe it’ll be fun. Or horrifying. Or both. 

Shadwell sat him down in the chair that was in the middle of the stage. Shadwell motioned to the crowd, who were cheering loudly. He walked around Crowley in a circle, grabbing some props, including a cape, on the way around. 

“Looks like we have a witch amongst ye!” Shadwell yelled into the crowd. 

Shadwell wiggled his butt in front of Crowley, who stared at it with disgust. 

“Smack him!” Tracy called from the front row. Crowley squinted to see her.

“What?” Crowley asked, Shadwell’s butt still in front of him. 

“Smack his arse!” Tracy mimed a smacking motion. 

Crowley stared at Shadwell’s ass and then at Tracy. Well, if it would get him off the stage… 

He lightly slapped Shadwell’s butt, who immediately jumped away from it as if it had hurt and circled around Crowley to start rustling around what sounded like a table full of things. 

Crowley was feeling many emotions, but confusion was promptly at the forefront. Shadwell came back around from behind him and had on a brown cape and was holding a dirty-looking book. He was pretending to read from it and at the end of his mumbling he shouted, “BEGONE HARLOT!” 

Another puff of smoke happened in front of Crowley and Shadwell was undulating on the floor. Sensing that his role in this was over, Crowley inched slowly off of the stage as women screamed and threw more money at Shadwell. 

Crowley got down the stage stairs and decided he needed to get some air. He left through another side door and found that it led to a small dock overlooking the lake. He walked over to the edge and took a deep breath. Despite what had just happened, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. It seemed like Aziraphale’s family were really trying to genuinely make sure that Crowley had a good time. So of course he couldn’t be angry at them. He was a little traumatized now, though. 

And it  _ was _ sort of funny. 

Crowley heard the door open behind him and for a brief second the music blared loudly through the opening. Crowley could just make out the sound of Tracy screaming and laughing. He smiled to himself. She was a sweet lady. 

A second later, Michael joined him at the edge of the dock. 

“You okay?” Michael asked, nudging him with her elbow. “I know that can be… a lot.” 

Crowley laughed. 

“You mean to tell me that getting exorcised on stage by an old man in a speedo while women scream and give him money is normal around these parts?” Crowley was still smiling. 

Michael made a considering noise and then set her drink down on the ledge. 

“Well, it’s not  _ abnormal _ , unfortunately.” 

Michael laughed this time and Crowley joined her. She seemed genuinely nice. Crowley’s brain unhelpfully supplied that she was Aziraphale’s ex and he found himself wanting to know a little bit more about that story. Not because he was jealous or anything, just curious. 

“I wish I could say that I have ever had an experience like that in London, but I can proudly say I haven’t,” Crowley started. “Have you ever been? To London, that is.” 

Michael took a sip of her drink and shook her head. 

“Nah, the city was always more of Aziraphale’s thing,” she replied. 

Hearing Aziraphale’s name leave her lips felt weird. It reminded Crowley that all of the people here really did love Aziraphale, they weren’t just using him to stay in the country unlike his bitchy, easily irritable boss. 

“You guys are close, huh?” Crowley said, hating himself a little for the prodding. He couldn’t help the curiosity. 

Michael smiled and looked as if she was remembering something. 

“Yeah, I mean, we were best friends all through elementary school, middle school, and we eventually started dating in high school,” She leaned on the ledge and stared out at the lake. “We were pretty inseparable.” 

Crowley imagined a teenaged Aziraphale, happy and in love. He smiled, too. 

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Crowley took a large gulp of his drink. 

“He wanted to get married.” 

Ah. So it was more serious than Crowley originally suspected. He must have made a surprised face, because Michael looked over at him and chuckled. 

“He proposed right after we graduated high school,” Michael elaborated. “He wanted to move to London, get married, start a family, he wanted to be an editor and, well…” 

“You didn’t want to leave,” Crowley guessed. 

Michael was scratching at the label on her beer bottle. She wasn’t looking at Crowley anymore. 

“I didn’t want to leave,” she confirmed. “Tadfield is home. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Even though I know the city is only a few hours away, I just couldn’t do it.” 

There was a moment of silence. It, surprisingly, wasn’t awkward. Crowley liked Michael, she was kind in a natural sort of way. It wasn’t forced like so many other people Crowley knew back in London. 

“But, anyways, you’re a lucky guy,” Michael said, interrupting the silence. “You probably already know that - Aziraphale is a great man.” 

If only she knew just how great he really was. How selfless. Crowley felt a sadness creep over him at taking advantage of that very kindness to help himself. 

“Yeah, he is really a great man,” Crowley repeated. 

“Well, cheers to you guys!” Michael held out her bottle. Crowley clicked it with his glass and took another big swig. They milled about for a few more minutes before Michael suggested they go back inside. 

“It sounds like Shadwell is probably wrapping up,” Michael said, pushing the door open. 

Crowley held the door open for Michael and stopped when he caught sight of what was happening on stage. Tracy was pretending to ride Shadwell like a horse, waving his mask around like a cowboy hat. Michael stifled a giggle. 

“Go Tracy!” a very sloshed Anathema yelled from their table. 

Michael finally lost it and Crowley couldn’t help but join her in a fit of laughter. Tears started forming in his eyes and he wiped them away with an open palm. 

He couldn’t wait to tell Aziraphale about this. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley finds out why aziraphale is so upset and a certain shower scene happens

Crowley was walking back toward the house with Tracy and Anathema, laughing and hanging onto each other as if they’d fall otherwise. Crowley had actually had a good time, all things considered. Then he heard Tracy click her tongue and say “Oh, bother.” 

Sometimes it’s really easy to remember that Tracy raised Aziraphale. 

He followed her line of vision and saw Aziraphale angrily chopping wood, old-school headphones placed firmly on his head. 

Aziraphale… knew how to chop wood? Crowley supposed he must, as he was watching him do it with his own two eyes. He had on just an undershirt, which was… something. He was practically naked by Aziraphale standards. And he was a little sweaty. Crowley watched a little awestruck as his strong arm brought the axe down, the wood splitting seamlessly in half. 

Anathema pulled at Crowley’s arm and tugged him toward the house, again. 

“Come on, leave him be, he’s no fun when he’s like that,” Anathema whispered. Crowley doubted Aziraphale could even hear them if she didn’t, his classical music was so loud Crowley could almost make it out exactly. 

Crowley wanted to ask “Like what?” but didn’t get the chance. Once inside the house, Anathema stormed off toward the gym. Crowley followed quietly behind her and stayed by the door when she burst in, Gabriel’s music booming through the speakers. 

The music cut off and Gabriel whined. 

“Hey! Not cool, I was just about to finish this rep-” 

“What did you say to Aziraphale?” Anathema cut him off. 

_ Ah, _ Crowley thought.  _ The wood chopping thing must mean that he and Gabriel.. fought?  _

“What makes you think I said anything to him at all?” Gabriel asked, feigning innocence. 

Unluckily for him, Anathema easily sniffed out his ingenuity and the sound of a light smack followed Gabriel’s answer. 

“Ow!” Gabriel exclaimed. 

Crowley peaked around and looked through the plexiglass door. Gabriel was rubbing the back of his head and Anathema stood next to him with her hands planted firmly on her hips, her cheeks still flush with the champagne they had had only half an hour earlier. 

“Don’t make me ask, again,  _ Gabe, _ ” Anathema sneered. Crowley made a mental note to never get on her bad side. “Why is he out there chopping wood?” 

“Oh, finally, he’s being useful.” 

Anathema glared at him some more. 

“I just talked to him about being a partner-” 

“Oh, Gabriel, come on! You know that he doesn’t want that, he’s told you time and time again,” Anathema threw her hands up, exasperated. “He’s an adult, he doesn’t want to be a partner, just bloody let it go already.” 

Clearly Aziraphale’s choice of profession was a sore spot between him and his older brother. Crowley figured that must be why Gabriel was so upset with Aziraphale only being an assistant. Crowley felt a pang of guilt as he knew that he was the reason Aziraphale hadn’t been promoted. 

It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t deserve it, he absolutely did. He was a smart worker, dedicated to the craft, and knew his shit. But Crowley couldn’t live without him. He’s come to depend on him far too much in the last five years and the thought of losing him was slightly terrifying. Crowley can’t remember how he functioned before Aziraphale. 

Putting those feelings (when did he start having those?) aside, he knew it was the right thing to promote Aziraphale after all of this was done. He had more than earned it. 

Crowley left the hallway by the gym as Anathema and Gabriel continued to have it out. Crowley found Tracy in the kitchen, sipping on a mug of tea as if this was a normal occurrence. Maybe it was. 

“I’m going to go shower off Shadwell’s, er,  _ incense _ smell,” Crowley gestured to his body. 

Tracy laughed. 

“Of course, dearie, have a nice wash,” Tracy waved him off. 

Crowley went upstairs and, as he undressed, couldn’t stop thinking about the torment he was putting so many people through. Was it worth it? Was torturing this small town and this family worth it if it meant staying in the country and keeping his job? These were real people, with real feelings, and Crowley was just toying with all of them. 

He tried to think about other things as the hot water hit his head. He let himself enter a sort of meditative state as he lathered on body wash and rinsed out his shampoo. He let the sandalwood scent encase him into his own little cocoon. 

Just then, Aziraphale entered the bedroom, headphones on, still fuming at the conversation he and Gabriel had had. 

Why couldn’t he just let being a partner go and accept that Aziraphale was an adult man who was perfectly capable of making his own decisions? 

Aziraphale went over to the cabinet and grabbed a towel, he had worked up quite a sweat chopping wood. He didn’t know when that particular activity had started being his decompressor, but it still worked quite well, which was good to know. Now, though, he needed a shower. He decided to strip down on the little patio attached to their room. That way, if Crowley came in, he wouldn’t see him. 

Crowley stepped out of the shower and thought he heard someone enter the room. 

“Hello?” Crowley called out. No answer.

Crowley looked through a few cupboards in the bathroom, but wasn’t able to find the towels. Who doesn’t keep the towels in the bathroom? Especially one with this many drawers and shelves. 

Crowley opened the door just a crack to see if someone had come in and just didn’t answer him. He didn’t see anyone immediately, but he saw a cabinet opened with a few towels. He went to step out and quickly grab one when Dog came bounding into the bedroom, planted himself in front of the bathroom door, and started barking at Crowley. 

“Ugh,” Crowley looked down at Dog. “Shoo, shoo, go away!” 

But Dog didn’t budge. He continued to sit and bark at Crowley. 

“Shhhhh, I just want to get a towel, you little mongrel,” Crowley growled at Dog. “I should have let the eagle eat you when I had the chance.” 

Dog tilted his head, as if he understood what Crowley was saying. Was Crowley about to apologize to a dog? 

Aziraphale was stripping down, delicately peeling off his now sticky clothes slowly and he still had his headphones in. He just wanted to block out the entire world at the moment. He gathered up the clothes and picked up the towel he had grabbed to finally go shower. 

Crowley was busy luring Dog onto the small rug in front of the bathroom door. Dog was walking toward him as Crowley repeated “C’mere, boy!” over and over until it lost all meaning. Just as Dog stepped onto it, Crowley yanked the rug and pushed it into the bathroom, quickly closing the door to trap Dog in there while he got a towel. 

He backed up quickly, thinking somehow Dog would gain super strength and break the door down when he ran smack into something hard and warm and… kinda moist? 

Aziraphale made a startled noise as Crowley’s naked body slapped against his own. 

_ What the Devil?  _

_ What the fu-? _

They sort of slid down each other as they hit the ground, Crowley landing so that he was laying on Aziraphale’s chest in the middle of the floor. Their noses were almost touching as they came face to face on the ground. Several things happened at once. 

“Why are you  _ wet _ ?” was the first thing out of Aziraphale’s mouth. 

“Why are you  _ naked _ ?” was the first thing out of Crowley’s. 

They scrambled away from each other, Crowley crawling toward the bed and Aziraphale groping around for the towel that he dropped during the collision. 

“Oh my  _ God _ were you in here the whole time? Why didn’t you answer me when I called out ‘hello’?” Crowley still didn’t have a towel of his own, so he grabbed a blanket from the bed. 

“I had my headphones in,” Aziraphale said, wrapping his towel around his stomach. 

Crowley noticed that the blanket he had decided to cover up with was the lover's cover. He flung it back onto the bed and opted to use the duvet instead. Less effective, but also with less implications attached to it. 

They both stared at each other for a silent beat. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to get dressed and you just,” Crowley sighed. “Just bloody take your shower.” 

Aziraphale nodded and moved to go to the bathroom. Right before he shut the door, he opened his mouth to say something. 

“Oh, nice tattoo by the way.” He was smirking at Crowley. 

Crowley reached behind himself and felt the snake tattoo that winded around the top of his back. What a cheeky bastard. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley decides to be more open

As night fell upon them once more, Aziraphale took to the floor. He had put on the fire in the fireplace and was rearranging his pillows and blankets to be fluffier. He really didn’t mind sleeping on the floor but he wished he had more supplies to at least make it slightly more comfortable. 

Crowley for his part crawled once more into the bed alone. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes and remembered the incident from earlier. How vulnerable they both had been, naked and afraid. Aziraphale had still had a sheen of sweat on him from chopping wood earlier, his biceps smooth with perspiration. Crowley tried not to think too hard about it. 

“So… so naked…” he whispered to himself. 

Aziraphale must have been able to hear him. 

“Can we not bring that up, please?” Aziraphale chirped up from the floor. 

Crowley blushed, a little embarrassed at being caught thinking about Aziraphale’s naked body slamming into his own. Crowley tried to deflect. 

“So, uh, what was up with you and Gabriel earlier?” Crowley started, trying to sound nonchalant and not nosey at all. 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“Is that question in the binder, dear?” Aziraphale sounded bitter. 

Crowley flinched. He just wanted to get to know Aziraphale a little better. He was clearly upset about his altercation with Gabriel and Crowley only wanted to offer whatever comfort he could. But he also knew that he sort of deserved the slight cold shoulder. 

“No, well, I mean, who knows? Maybe they’ll ask,” Crowley replied. “I’ve never really been interrogated about my relationship by the federal government before, so… ha… Didn’t you say we should get to know each other better?”

Crowley cleared his throat. 

“Not about that, Crowley. Good night.” 

Crowley felt so awkward. He really wanted to make things right. He decided then that he should be the one to start, since this was all his own fault. 

“I like the ‘Golden Girls.’” 

Crowley heard Aziraphale shift around on the floor. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked, softly. 

“I like the ‘Golden Girls.’ And not in some ironic, hipster way. I genuinely like the show. It’s comforting and I never had a grandma or really even a group of friends, so I think it’s nice. Sweet, even. I own every season on Blu-ray.” Crowley felt uncomfortable sharing, but this was for Aziraphale. 

The fire crackled and Crowley settled in deeper to his blankets. He felt warm and safe. So he continued. 

“I had an obsession with the ‘70s during college. I even had a stupid mustache and went to themed discos,” Crowley admitted, smiling at the memory of bad clubs and even worse outfits.

Aziraphale smiled into his pillow picturing a young Crowley with a mustache. Why was Crowley sharing all of this with him? 

“My first concert was Queen, I think Graham Norton is sexy, I have a bunch of houseplants that I yell at because I read in some book that talking to them is good, and me, of course, decided that meant torturing them,” Crowley laughed at himself. 

Aziraphale was now fully smiling up at the bed, but Crowley couldn’t see him. 

“I have never ridden a bicycle and I’m honestly too afraid to, now.” Crowley thought of other embarrassing facts about himself. “I haven’t had sex in almost six years, I went and cried in the bathroom after Ligur told me I would die alone…” 

Aziraphale frowned. He thought he knew Crowley so well, and yet- and yet he didn’t know any of these things. He always joked about Crowley not having feelings and being a vapid bitch, but all this time he really was just another person who experienced heartbreak and sadness. Aziraphale wanted to crawl up into the bed, give him a hug, and apologize, but that probably crossed several lines. 

“Oh and the tattoo? It’s a snake,” Crowley chuckled. “I was involved with a small gang of other rebellious teens in high school after my parents died and we all had nicknames. Mine was Crawly. The serpent was my calling card.” 

Aziraphale suddenly understood what Crowley was doing. He was letting down some of his walls. For Aziraphale. But why? Why him and why now? Regardless, Aziraphale recognized the significance of it and promised himself to not ruin it. 

“There’s probably a million other things, but that’s all I have right now,” Crowley paused. “Are you still there, angel?” 

Warmth flooded through Aziraphale at the nickname. He knew Crowley only continued calling him that in private so that it flowed naturally when in public, but he couldn’t seem to get that message across to the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Yes, I’m still here, dear,” Aziraphale replied. “Just, er, processing everything you said.” 

Aziraphale tapped his fingers on his stomach and stared at the ceiling some more. He thought about everything Crowley said and how that fit into his already solid idea of who Crowley is and what made him tick. He knew he was an orphan, but the gang part was new. He didn’t know he liked the ‘Golden Girls,’ although that sort of fit him now that Aziraphale thought about it. He knew he liked plants some because he had a few scattered in his office, but he pictured Crowley yelling at them and stifled a giggle. 

“You really haven’t slept with anyone in six years?” was what Aziraphale’s mind decided for him to focus on. He thought back to the last five working for Crowley and concluded that must be accurate. 

Crowley sighed, but it sounded like he was smiling. 

“I tell you  _ all of that _ and you focus on the fact that I’m in the worst dry spell of my life?” Crowley replied. “And I thought I was the evil one.” 

Aziraphale laughed. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that that’s a long time,” Aziraphale tried not to think of his own dry spell. He wasn’t exactly being swarmed by suitors, himself. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve been very busy,” Crowley thought about how Luca had always complained that Crowley was too focused on work. How many fights that caused. 

“I’ve noticed,” Aziraphale deadpanned. He was the one who scheduled all of Crowley’s meetings, after all. 

A comfortable silence settled over them. 

“Who is Queen?” 

Crowley sputtered and choked on his own spit. He knew Aziraphale wasn’t too fond of modern music, but Queen could hardly count as  _ modern _ at this point. 

“You know who Queen is, angel, trust me,” Crowley cleared his throat. “ _ I’m just a poor boy nobody loves me //  _ **He’s just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity** doo doo doodoo doo doo doodoo~” 

Crowley mimicked playing the piano. 

Aziraphale was laughing wholeheartedly now and Crowley felt his whole being light up at the sound. He sported his own thousand-watt grin. 

“I was kidding, I know who Queen is, I just wanted to hear you sing.” 

Crowley started laughing, too, and the sounds of their laughter filled the room, crawling into every corner and nestling comfortably there. 

Crowley wiped a tear from his eye and their giggles petered out. 

“Crowley?”

“Hm?” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Aziraphale started, treading lightly. “But you are a very, very beautiful man.” 

Crowley’s heart stopped. He smiled to himself, the light in him growing to fill his entire body all the way down to his toes. 

“GALILEO, galileo, GALILEO-” Aziraphale started in a very high-pitched voice, extremely off-key. “Oh good Lord, I cannot go that high.” 

Crowley laughed again. He didn’t know if he had laughed this much in his entire life and here he was in his upteenth fit of giggles in the last 20 minutes. 

Aziraphale smiled as he heard Crowley’s laughter from the bed. He liked seeing him happy and lighthearted. It was a good look on him. Aziraphale made his new mission to see more of it, as much as he could. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anathema pitches the happy couple her plan

Crowley woke up sprawled in the middle of the large bed. He shot up suddenly and, upon seeing the light streaming through the window, began groping for the alarm clock to see what time it was. In his haste he almost knocked it off the bedside table, but caught it just before it made the final tumble. It was 9 a.m. He glanced over to Aziraphale, still asleep on the floor. 

Crowley studied him for a second. He looked so at peace, his face in a soft expression of relaxation. His cheek was squished against the pillow and all the anxiety that was usually written across his face was gone. Crowley was smiling at him like a fool. 

Crowley glanced up and caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was all over the place, he had sleep goop in his eye, and he was all pale from being cold. He glanced over at Aziraphale, again. 

He then reached over into his toiletries bag and pulled out a comb. Might as well make himself look a little more presentable while he was awake. 

He combed through his hair a little, styling it to look just perfectly tousled, and then dabbed some concealer under his eyes. Why not? Despite having some of the best sleep of his life the last two nights, he still had some light dark circles under his eyes from this being the first time in years. For good measure, he pinched and lightly smacked his cheeks, bringing them to flush. 

Then a quick succession of knocks came at the door. 

“Room service!” called out a voice that was definitely Tracy. 

Crowley almost dropped his toiletry bag. Aziraphale was still on the floor, his family couldn’t know he slept on the floor. 

“Angel!” Crowley whisper-shouted to the foot of the bed. No answer. Crowley threw a pillow at him. “Aziraphale! Wake up, it’s your family. Get on the bed.” 

Aziraphale shot up from the floor, his hair sticking up in a few different places, his curls all out of sort. His right cheek was red from where he slept on it. He was so cute. 

_ Not now, you idiot,  _ Crowley scolded himself. 

“Just a minute!” Crowley yelled to the door.

Aziraphale grabbed all of the blankets from the floor and stuffed them in the cedar chest. He ran over to the bed, hopped in, and positioned himself behind Crowley. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s middle and Crowley tried desperately not to blush. This was by far the closest they have been, Aziraphale’s entire body ran down the back of Crowley’s and it felt comforting to be held by such warmth. 

“Why am I the little spoon?” Crowley muttered as he tried to arrange the blankets, to which Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Crowley caught sight of the blanket he had been using. “Oh no, not the fuck blanket, get this out of here!” 

Crowley tossed the lovers cover over the side of the bed hidden from view. They settled a little further into bed, against the pillows. Crowley rested the back of his head on Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Are you wearing makeup?” Aziraphale asked as he craned his neck to study Crowley’s face. 

Crowley blushed. 

“What? No!”

“Really? Because it looks like you-” 

“Shush- Okay, come in!” Crowley settled his hands on top of Aziraphale’s, which were laying gently on Crowley’s stomach. 

Anathema burst into the room, holding a tray of various fruits and pastries. Tracy trailed in behind her and Crowley spotted two mugs of tea in her hand. 

“Wow, that looks great,” Aziraphale said as Anathema lowered the tray into their laps. 

“Smells good, too,” Crowley added, eyeballing the cinnamon rolls sitting in the middle. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” 

Anathema beamed at them. 

“Nonsense, you’re family and we’re so happy to have you visiting,” Anathema wiped her hands on her long, plaid skirt. Tracy set the tea on the side table. “It was no trouble at all.” 

“Good morning, all,” Gabriel called as he entered the room. 

Crowley felt Aziraphale tense up slightly. He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of Aziraphale’s hand, trying to emit some sort of soothing energy. 

“Wow, the whole family is here, might as well bring in Adam and the Them,” Aziraphale said, sarcasm threatening the edge of his words. 

“Do you think we should?” Gabriel asked, completely seriously. “Never mind. So, me, Anathema, and Tracy have been talking and Tracy came up with an amazing idea, that I wholeheartedly agree with-” 

“We want you to get married here, tomorrow!” Tracy exclaimed, interrupting Gabriel. 

Crowley felt his heart drop into this stomach. Tomorrow. Married. Here. 

There was a beat where Aziraphale and Crowley just stared at them, stuttering. 

“What, what- tomorrow?” Aziraphale said, trying to stay cool. 

“Yeah,” Anathema said, stepping in front of Tracy and Gabriel. “Listen, you guys are going to get married anyways, I can’t imagine you’ve been engaged long since you just told us, so I doubt you’ve started planning, and you can have another ceremony back in London whenever you want!” 

Crowley couldn’t seem to find his voice. Aziraphale’s mouth was hanging open slightly. 

“Plus, if you do it here, now, Tracy can be a part of it and we can even decorate the old barnhouse out in the yard.” Anathema had clearly thought all of this out. 

Crowley was grasping at straws, trying to find an excuse to say “no.” 

“Oh, but it’s Tracy’s birthday tomorrow, we don’t want to ruin her big day or anything,” Crowley offered. He felt Aziraphale nod in approval behind him. 

Tracy tutted and flicked her hand. 

“Dears, I have had 79 other birthday parties, I don’t really need another,” Tracy smiled at them. “Besides, what better birthday present than to see my precious little Aziraphale get married to the love of his life?” 

Crowley laughed nervously. Right. The love of his life. 

“Oh, please won’t you consider it? For me?” Tracy begged. “Before I die?” 

Damn this woman was good. Crowley sighed. 

“Yes! Of course we’ll do it,” Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Right, angel?” 

“Mhm, yep, we’ll get married…. Tomorrow,” Aziraphale sounded less than enthused, but it seemed to placate Tracy. 

Tracy clapped her hands together and did a little cheering motion. 

“Oh wonderful,” Tracy grabbed Anathema’s arm. “I told you, it was in the cards. I must go consult the star alignment for tomorrow to make sure everything goes smoothly.” 

As Tracy left the room, Anathema and Gabriel stayed behind and were smiling at Crowley and Aziraphale. Gabriel seemed genuinely happy with this plan, but it was more likely that after Anathema talked to him, he would do anything to not feel her wrath again so soon. 

“We’ll leave you guys alone now, but we’re just very excited,” Anathema said. “We’re going to go start finalizing plans. Come on, idiot.” 

Anathema motioned for Gabriel to follow her out of the room. He sighed and followed her. 

“Oh good Lord,” Aziraphale sagged back further into the bed as soon as the door was closed behind them. “When my family finds out this was all fake, they’re going to be heartbroken.” 

Crowley turned around in Aziraphale’s arms and put both hands on either side of his face, forcing Aziraphale to look right in his eyes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” Crowley said. “It’ll be fine.” 

“No it’s not, I’m going to crush my loved ones and my godmother is going to die, I think.” Aziraphale’s breathing was quickening and he wiggled out of Crowley’s hold. “And what was with Gabriel going along with it? What the Devil has gotten into him?” 

Crowley grabbed his arm.    
  
“Anathema probably told him to go along with it, it’s fine, they’re not going to find out,” Crowley said, even as he, himself, didn’t really believe it. “Just relax, please.” 

Aziraphale put his face in both of his hands and groaned. Crowley let go of his arm and started rubbing soothing circles on Aziraphale’s shoulders, mumbling phrases like “It’s going to be fine,” and gently shushing him. 

“Plus, it’s not like we’re staying married,” Crowley reminded him. 

Aziraphale looked up. 

“Right, you’re right, we’ll get a quick divorce, and it’ll be fine,” Aziraphale assured himself. “Painless.” 

Crowley felt a little pang in his heart. 

“Yeah, painless,” Crowley echoed. 

Crowley was still rubbing Aziraphale’s shoulders. He gave Aziraphale a quick peck on the cheek. There was a short silence in which Aziraphale stared down at Crowley’s moving hands as if they were spiders. 

“So, here’s your tea,” Crowley reached out and grabbed the mug from the bedside table. “I guess I should learn how you take it so I can keep my husband happy. Don’t need you leaving me for someone else.” 

Crowley chuckled lightly and Aziraphale visibly relaxed. 

“I haven’t left you yet, dear,” Aziraphale made to reach for the mug but Crowley wouldn’t let go for a second. “I got it, you can let go.” 

Crowley had gotten caught up in thinking about the divorce. Aziraphale was right, it would be painless. They weren’t really in love, so it would all be fine. People would most likely talk at work, say things like “Oh, I knew they wouldn’t work out, Aziraphale is far too sweet for an asshole like Crowley,” and the like. And they’d be right, Aziraphale really was too sweet for someone as guarded and rude as Crowley. He was kind and smiled at people on the sidewalk and did everything to make sure the people around him were happy and Crowley, well- Crowley didn’t even have friends. 

Aziraphale tugged lightly on the mug in Crowley’s hand, again. 

“Crowley? Are you all right?” Aziraphale sounded concerned and he was looking at Crowley like he cared and Crowley couldn’t stand it because dammit maybe he was starting to care back. 

“Yeah, I’m, er, I’m just gonna go,” Crowley stood up hastily. “Just gonna go for a quick walk. Nature, you know, it’s so beautiful here, I should really… walk.” 

Aziraphale looked confused and a little hurt. Crowley started walking backwards and grabbed for a door. 

“Ah, okay,” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “That’s the bathroom door, though.” 

Crowley turned around. So it was. 

“Yeah, I’m just going to go to the bathroom and then take a little walk,” Crowley stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. 

Aziraphale sighed and clunked his head against the headboard, taking a sip of tea. 

_ This is not going to be fine, _ he thought to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know everyone wants them to share the bed and i mean... they KIND OF share a bed here, right?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley gets closer to tracy in an unexpected (or completely expected) way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have been so great that i decided to give you a bonus upload this week! enjoy ~

Crowley walked out into the front yard and breathed deeply. He had never been fond of nature, but that could change. There was a reason other people liked it, wasn’t there? 

He tried to enjoy the sound of the bugs and birds and whatever else was out there with him and put on his sunglasses as the sun hit his face. He looked around for a trail or any sort of path that he could walk on and spotted a bike in the yard. It must be Adam’s or maybe one of his friend’s. It had a little basket on the front. 

Crowley glanced around and didn’t see any sign of the little buggers, so he grabbed the bike and hopped on. He wasn’t exactly dressed for bike riding, but it was too late for that now. He had to think. 

“This is just business, Crowley,” he muttered to himself. “This is a business transaction, you get something, he gets something, we all win.” 

Except it was becoming a little more complicated than that, wasn’t it? Crowley was starting to like Aziraphale, he could feel it. And not “like” as in they could go grab a drink at the pub, although he would also like to do that. No, he was starting to  _ like _ Aziraphale. As in he wanted to hold his hand and take walks through the park, or go on a picnic at the beach and drink champagne and laugh at silly inside jokes, or settle in on the couch at the end of a long work day and snuggle, or- 

This was bad. Because this was  _ supposed _ to just be a business transaction. Aziraphale doesn’t feel that way about Crowley and Crowley can’t blame him. He has not only been an awful boss, but just an all-around awful person. Ex-boyfriend trauma aside, he had no reason to be so mean to everyone around him. Crowley hadn’t always been this way, but when did he lose himself? 

Crowley felt his heart flutter at the memory of Aziraphale’s arms around him that morning, even if it was just for a few minutes as his family announced that they’d like them to get married tomorrow. Tomorrow. 

Oh god, tomorrow they’d have to get married in front of everyone Aziraphale loves and who loves him. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, this would have had to happen eventually anyways. Crowley had sort of been hoping that they could have gotten away with a courthouse wedding, but of course Aziraphale’s family would want to be there for the ceremony. 

In all actuality, Crowley should be happy that it’s happening so fast. At this rate, he would probably be in love with Aziraphale, properly, if they had waited. And that would’ve hurt so much more. Crowley could deal with this little crush and lick his wounds later. 

He rode the bicycle off the trail a bit and ran face first into a bush. 

He deserved that. 

As he was picking twigs out of his hair, he heard a noise a little farther into the forest. It sounded like a person talking? He followed the sound, pushing the bicycle next to him. 

“What in the world…?” 

He came to a small clearing in the trees and found a small bonfire. Tracy was standing by a small table set up by the bonfire and chanting softly a little down the small hill Crowley was on. He set the bicycle against a tree trunk and snuck forward, trying to get a better look. What was she doing out here? 

“Come here, child!” Tracy called suddenly, scaring Crowley, who slid a little down the hill. “I can see you are curious.” 

Crowley waved his hands. 

“Nope, not curious one bit as to what you’re doing in the woods chanting by a bonfire, nope,” Crowley smiled nervously at her. Did Aziraphale mention she was a witch? He feels like he remembers him saying something along those lines once. 

She narrowed her eyes. 

“Nonsense, come here, I want to show you what I’m doing,” Tracy motioned for him to come forward. “It’s a cleansing ritual, to rid you of unwanted emotions or negative thoughts.” 

Crowley certainly had plenty to spare of both of those things, so he reluctantly walked towards her. 

On her little stand sat a pile of paper and a pen. The stand had a purple velvet cloth over it, with gold trimmings. There were stars, suns, and moons embroidered on it. 

“Okay, so, er, what do we do?” Crowley asked. That was apparently the right thing to say because Tracy beamed at him. Despite not being related by blood, it was the same beam that Aziraphale wore sometimes when he was especially pleased. 

“I’m glad you asked, dearie,” Tracy moved away from the bonfire and over to the stand where Crowley was. “First, we meditate for a few moments to connect with ourselves. Then, we write down all of the emotions and thoughts that we want to release onto paper.” 

Tracy gestured to the little pile she had of writing supplies. 

“Once you finish writing, you say this out loud, ‘I (your name) hereby banish (and then read out your list) from all layers and all levels, throughout all time and space. And so it is, and so it is, and so it is,’” Tracy explained. “Then you fold the paper three times, throw it in the fire, and thank the Fire Element for allowing us to release these thoughts and feelings.” 

Crowley was nodding along. That sounded easy enough. Unfortunately, because they had to say it out loud, Crowley couldn’t write down “stop being in love with your assistant who is only marrying you to keep you in the country and to get promoted,” as Tracy would hear him and that would probably put a wrench in the plan. 

“Okay, sounds simple,” Crowley looked around. “So we meditate first?” 

Tracy stepped aside and revealed a large blanket on the ground next to the fire. She sat down with her legs crossed and Crowley did the same. They closed their eyes and sat in silence for a few moments. Crowley tried to connect with himself, whatever that meant. Once his breathing slowed and he began to feel hyper aware of everything happening around him, Tracy got up. 

“Okay, now we write down what we would like to release,” Tracy plucked a pen out of her hair and handed it to Crowley along with a piece of paper. 

Crowley wrote down something about wanting to get rid of his insecurities and to no longer lie, which was ambiguous enough that Tracy most likely couldn’t figure out that he meant specifically his and Aziraphale’s situation. 

She grabbed her paper and walked over to the bonfire. Crowley stepped next to her. 

“What do I have to say, again?” Crowley had already forgotten almost everything Tracy had said in her explanation. 

“Repeat after me: I, Crowley-” 

“I, Crowley-” 

“Hereby banish, and then read your list-” 

“Hereby banish my insecurities and my lying-” 

“From all layers and levels, throughout all time and space-” 

“From all layers and levels, throughout all time and space-” 

“And so it is, and so it is, and so it is.”

“And so it is, and so it is, and so it is.”

Tracy showed Crowley how to fold his list, folding it over itself three times, and instructed him to toss it into the fire. She had a small boombox playing soft drumming sounds and she began to chant, again. 

“And so it is, and so it is, and so it is,” she murmured into the fire. “And so it is, and so it is, and so it is. Keep chanting, Crowley, it’ll solidify the ritual. Chant from the heart.”

Crowley began to chant along with her, sort of feeling the beat, which actually reminded him of a Queen song. 

“And so it is, and so it is, and so it is,” Tracy chanted as she began circling the bonfire. 

“Hey I was just a skinny lad, never knew no good from bad,” Crowley started mumbling to himself in beat. 

“Louder, Crowley!” Tracy called from across the fire. 

“Hey I was just a skinny lad, never knew no good from bad,” Crowley said, louder. “But I knew life before I left my nursery, huh!” 

Tracy faltered for a brief second but visibly decided to just let Crowley continue. Whatever worked for him. 

Aziraphale had left the house not long after Crowley, and was now searching for him in the woods around the house. Crowley had seemed upset when he left or at the very least like something was bothering him, so Aziraphale wanted to make sure he was alright. 

Aziraphale heard what sounded like someone chanting a little closer to the lake, so he started heading in that direction. It seemed to be coming from the clearing where Tracy usually holds her Wiccan rituals. 

Aziraphale approached faster, hearing Crowley’s voice, and stopped to take in the scene. 

Crowley was dancing (if you could call it that) around the fire with Tracy. He was singing “Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen. Aziraphale stifled a giggle. 

Crowley was now in front of Tracy, holding her hands and swinging them around as he sang, “Left alone with big fat Fanny, she was such a naughty nanny, heap big woman, you made a bad boy out of meeeeee- Hey hey!” 

Aziraphale started walking a little closer with a wide grin on his face. What was this fool doing? Dancing in the woods with Tracy singing Queen around a fire. It was ridiculous. And endlessly endearing. Crowley looked like he was having a lot of fun and had on that happy and lighthearted expression, again. 

Crowley started getting more into the song as he danced. Tracy was singing along with him. 

“Sing it with me, Tracy! Ooooh, won’t you take me home tonight? Ooooooooh, down beside your red firelight? Oooooooh, and you give it all you got! Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round-” 

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale interrupted. 

Crowley stumbled on his feet and faced Aziraphale.

“Oh, angel, hi, yeah, er, we were just-” Crowley turned to look at Tracy, who was turning off the boombox. “Tracy just wanted to do a cleansing ritual and she said to chant from the heart to solidify it, so…” 

Aziraphale peered at Crowley, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Fat bottoms? That’s what came from your heart?” Aziraphale was grinning in full now. Crowley blushed. 

“I was just sort of, you know, going with the beat,” Crowley was a little out of breath from dancing around. 

Aziraphale stared at him, smiling, for a second. Then he remembered the message he had gotten before leaving the house. 

“Well, your phone came in, so I’m going to go into town to retrieve it,” Aziraphale motioned toward Tadfield. “Would you like to join me?” 

“Oh yes, definitely,” Crowley replied, turning to Tracy. “Is it okay if I go with him?” 

Tracy smiled. 

“Whatever you do is what shall be,” she replied, cryptically. 

Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, who shrugged. “Is that a yes, it’s okay?” 

“Yes, of course, dearie, go on,” Tracy made a shooing motion. 

Crowley practically ran over to Aziraphale, who dusted invisible lint off of Crowley’s collar. 

“My that was… certainly something,” Aziraphale said as they began walking back toward the house. The Fell’s kept a small motorized boat on their dock, perfect for making a quick trip across the lake to town. 

“Shut up,” Crowley replied, playfully nudging Aziraphale’s shoulder.

They giggled all the way back to the yard. Crowley felt lighter. Maybe the ritual really did work. He glanced at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. Aziraphale was laughing still, the soft, pale skin around his blue eyes crinkling. 

Crowley smiled to himself. He certainly hoped the ritual worked. Maybe then Crowley could stop lying, to himself and to Aziraphale. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley gets a new phone! aziraphale sees an old friend! shadwell is creepy!

Crowley stood at the end of the dock, watching Aziraphale get the boat ready for their trip to town. He had tried to convince Aziraphale to just let Crowley drive them, but Aziraphale insisted on taking the boat claiming that it was faster and less hassle anyways.

Crowley eyed the water warily. He wasn’t afraid of large bodies of water, per se, but he wasn’t the best swimmer and he didn’t want Aziraphale to think any less of him, so he kept quiet on this fear. 

It was so fascinating, watching Aziraphale ready the boat. He knew exactly what he was doing, never faltering to think about what came next, just fluidly going from one task to the next one. 

Crowley was pretty openly leering at him, but who cares? If any of the family saw, this sort of behavior was expected between a newly engaged couple. And if Aziraphale caught him, he could use the same excuse. 

Aziraphale dusted off his hands and stepped back, looking up at Crowley. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“Nope,” Crowley replied, walking over to the edge of the dock and peering at the wobbly boat. “Now, how do I get in this thing, angel?” 

Aziraphale held out his hand. Crowley stared at it. 

“Take my hand,” Aziraphale instructed, putting a foot on the dock to steady the boat. “I won’t let you fall, dear.” 

Crowley swallowed. Of course he wouldn’t let him fall. 

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, it was soft and a little dry, and stepped down into the boat. It wasn’t so bad once he was seated. Crowley sat in the co-pilot spot and Aziraphale came to take his own seat and start the boat up. 

Crowley had to admit that taking the boat did allow for a beautiful view. They could see the rolling green hills off in the distance, the lush of the forest, and the sky was clear and blue despite the October weather. Crowley took a deep breath. This place was so calming and peaceful, so different from the busy streets of London. Crowley could almost imagine himself getting used to this, to visits out to the Fell’s house on the lake. 

Crowley shook himself out of his thoughts. That wouldn’t happen. Even though Crowley was becoming fast friends with Aziraphale’s family, they would be divorcing soon and it was probably best not to get even more attached. 

The boat started to slow down and, as they approached the dock, Crowley noted that they were already in town. Aziraphale was right, it was much faster than taking the car. 

Aziraphale helped Crowley out of the boat and they walked over to the Fell General Store. It was quaint and felt familiar despite Crowley never setting foot in it. Shadwell was manning the front. 

“Aziraphale, aye!” Shadwell called from behind the counter. 

“Good afternoon, Shadwell, do you have the phone I ordered, by chance?” Aziraphale asked, picking up a bag and starting to pull things from the shelf to put in it. 

“Yes, lad, one moment,” Shadwell turned to Crowley. “Aye, I see you brought a witch into my business.” 

Shadwell winked at Crowley. 

“Ah, yes, very funny,” Crowley faked a smile, hoping to end the interaction as soon as it started. Luckily, Shadwell disappeared behind the back to retrieve the phone. 

“Well, it seems that you have made quite the impression on Shadwell.” Aziraphale was smiling, a twinkle of laughter in his eye. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“I think  _ he _ is the one who made an impression on me, unfortunately,” Crowley grumbled. 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale put various snacks in his bag. Aziraphale reached around Crowley at one point to grab something and Crowley didn’t move, allowing Aziraphale to briefly invade his personal space. Crowley caught a whiff of Aziraphale’s cologne. He tried not to inhale too loudly. 

“Fun fact about Aziraphale number 987: I love pastries.” Aziraphale was putting croissants and danishes in the bag as he said this. “All kinds - donuts, puff pastry, baklava, macarons, you name it.” 

Crowley chuckled. 

“What are you, a 70-year-old woman at the church bake sale?” Crowley eyed the bag. 

Shadwell returned with a box in hand. 

“Here’s ya phone,” Shadwell put the box in Aziraphale’s hand and had the cell phone in his other. He handed this to Crowley. When Crowley reached out, Shadwell pulled it back quickly. They did this three times before Shadwell finally said, “Aye! I’m just messin’ wit ya, laddie, here ya go.” 

Crowley took the phone and quickly turned, convinced Shadwell would play another trick. 

“Thank you!” Crowley called over his shoulder as he followed Aziraphale outside. 

Crowley turned the phone on and checked his voicemail. He had 45 missed calls and 30 voicemails, all mostly from Jameson. Crowley had to email him before he had a conniption, but his laptop was back at the house and he wanted to email Jameson right away. 

“Is there a computer somewhere in this town or have we traveled back to 1987?” Crowley was looking around at the buildings to see if anywhere looked like it might have any sort of technology beyond a rotary phone. 

“We do have an internet cafe, but mind you, it is a little dated,” Aziraphale steered them in the opposite direction of where they were walking. “But it should do the job.” 

A few minutes later, Crowley was seated in front of what had to be the oldest computer left in all of England. However, as Aziraphale said, it would do the job. Aziraphale was talking to the man at the counter and came over with a few coins in his hand. 

“Alright, put one in to start the computer, when the screen darkens a little, put another one in,” Aziraphale gave the coins to Crowley. “These should cover you for at least 20 minutes.” 

Crowley stared at the coins trying to remember when he would have hit his head to end up in the Stone Age. 

Aziraphale knew that Crowley was making severe judgements on the town right at the moment, when he spotted Michael outside, walking a group of preschoolers down the street. He hadn’t gotten the chance to catch up with her at the party, so he figured why not now? 

“I’m going to be outside, just let me know if you need any more, okay?” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s shoulder and left the cafe, not seeing the bereft look on Crowley’s face. 

Crowley sighed and began putting coins into the computer, which immediately began screeching at him. Dial-up. In 2020. Great. 

Crowley sat and waited for the computer to boot up. He was about to ask the man at the counter for help when the noise stopped. He logged in to his email, which took about five minutes, when he decided to look around outside. He was scanning the street, admiring the flowers that were scattered everywhere, when he spotted Aziraphale. 

Crowley caught himself smiling softly at the blond curls when he saw that he was talking to someone. Michael. Oh, that was nice. Old friends talking. 

Crowley tried desperately to shove down the feeling of jealousy that was crawling up his throat at the sight of them laughing and getting on like chums. Crowley should not be jealous. He and Aziraphale weren’t  _ really _ a couple, and Aziraphale and Michael had history. They had actually been in love. Aziraphale could talk to whoever he wanted. 

Crowley turned away from the scene and focused on emailing Jameson. 

Around 20 minutes later, Aziraphale went to go back to the cafe and found Crowley finishing up. He turned around from the computer and was startled to see Aziraphale standing there. 

“All good, dear?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yep.”

They exited the cafe and Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was walking a little farther away than they had been earlier. When they first got into town, they were practically bumping shoulders, but now Crowley stood at least three feet away. 

“Is everything all right?” Aziraphale asked, wondering if something was wrong. 

“Yeah,” Crowley replied. “It must’ve been nice seeing Michael. I saw you guys talking while I was dealing with the disaster that is Jameson’s psyche.” 

Aziraphale wondered distantly if Michael was what had upset Crowley. That would be ridiculous, of course. There was nothing to be bothered about. Aziraphale and Michael were good friends. Any further feelings had disappeared when Aziraphale left to move to London. 

“She looked really pretty today,” Crowley mumbled. 

Wait.  _ Was _ this about Michael? Aziraphale searched his brain to come up with what this could possibly mean. Was Crowley  _ jealous  _ of Michael? That would imply a few things. One, that Crowley actually liked Aziraphale, which was a lot to think about right now. Two, that Crowley assumed that Aziraphale was still in love with Michael, which wasn’t true. It was just nice to see an old friend after so long. 

“Yeah, she did,” Aziraphale replied, brain moving at the speed of light to put all of the pieces together. Of course, just then, they were interrupted. 

“Hey, guys!” Anathema called from across the street. 

They walked up to Crowley and Aziraphale and Tracy grabbed Crowley’s arm gently. 

“We’re going to be stealing Crowley,” Tracy announced. Upon seeing Crowley’s worried expression, she amended. “Don’t worry, no strippers or rituals in the forest this time, I promise.” 

Crowley relaxed a little. 

“Is Aziraphale coming, too?” Crowley asked, going to stand with Tracy and Anathema. 

“Oh no, dearie, this is just for us,” Tracy replied. 

Anathema stuck her tongue out at Aziraphale. 

“Yeah, no fiancés allowed,” Anathema said, blowing a raspberry at Aziraphale. 

They began dragging Crowley off toward a different building while Tracy informed Aziraphale that it would only be about 30 minutes and that he could wait around town for Crowley to be done. 

Crowley laughed and continued walking with them toward what looked like a tailor shop. 

“You’re going to love this, I promise,” Anathema whispered to Crowley. 

And for once, he actually believed her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracy and anathema surprise crowley with a sweet gift and crowley takes it as well as anyone who has never been properly loved by a family does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, happy halloween! so first thing's first - i'm changing the posting schedule. the fic is completed, so i decided to start posting mondays, wednesdays, and saturdays going into effect this coming monday. this is also because i am planning on writing a hallmark christmas au and want to make sure it can all be posted starting at the end of november/beginning of december. 
> 
> secondly, we're almost done! can you believe it? thank you all for your wonderful comments and support! okay back to the fic

Crowley was led into the tailor shop, handed a bag, and told to get changed. 

He was rustling through the bag, trying to figure out what it was, when his hand felt satin. Confused, he pulled the rest of the garment out of the bag and came face to face with a wedding dress that had been cut at the waist. 

“It’s my wedding dress,” Tracy explained from the other side of the curtain. “It was hand-sewn by my mother for  _ my _ wedding. We’re going to modify it to a vest so you can wear it tomorrow!” 

Crowley looked, speechless, at the dress in his hands and felt tears prickle at his eyes. He must have been quiet for too long because Tracy and Anathema checked on him. 

“Are you okay?” Anathema asked. 

Crowley centered himself and wiped away the stray tears that were crawling down his cheek. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, one sec,” Crowley replied. 

He put on the top half of the dress, which surprisingly fit him already well, and stepped out from behind the curtain. Anathema and Tracy gasped and clapped with delight. 

“Oh it practically fits you already, but step over here and let me make some adjustments,” Tracy said, grabbing his waist and turning him side to side. 

As Tracy pawed at various spots on Crowley’s torso, Crowley felt the guilt that had been sitting in his chest since they got here grow tenfold. He was lying to these people, these people who seemed to care deeply about him, and now Tracy was cutting up her own wedding dress for Crowley. He felt sick. 

“My, you  _ are _ a skinny one, aren’t you?” Tracy said, laughing as she took the built-in bra in hand. “Definitely not as well-endowed as I was.” 

Crowley tried to force out a light-hearted laugh, but his mind was still racing. 

“Tracy, I could only wish to be as well-endowed as you,” Crowley said. Tracy’s answering laugh calmed him down a little. 

Anathema moved behind him to begin cinching the back, pulling and poking every few seconds. 

“You know, we were thinking we could come to London for the holidays this year,” Anathema said, softly. 

Crowley smiled. He wondered if Aziraphale and him would still be “together” around the holidays. His mind whirled with the glow of soft Christmas lights, nights warmed by candle lit wreaths, and hot chocolate flavored kisses. He had never been one for the holidays, but maybe he could learn to be. 

Then Crowley remembered that Aziraphale hadn’t been to Tadfield to visit as often as his family would like. 

“That would be lovely… Or,” Crowley started. “We could come here.” 

Anathema ducked to hide her smile. 

“Oh,” she said. “I think we would like that very much. I mean,  _ I  _ would like that very much.” 

Anathema’s voice cracked on the last word and she turned away. Tracy tutted and put a hand on her arm. 

“Anathema, we have work to do, dearie,” Tracy smiled at her. 

Anathema grabbed a tissue from somewhere in her many pockets and dabbed her eyes, sniffling a few times. 

“You’re right, I’ll go make myself a cup of tea,” Anathema turned to the back room and disappeared. Crowley was staring at the spot that she had been standing. 

“Alright, now let’s finish these measurements,” Tracy said. 

A few minutes later, Crowley was standing in front of a floor-length mirror, turning around to see every angle of his torso. With a few add-ons from Tracy, it had turned into a very handsome vest - something Crowley might even have picked himself for his own wedding. 

“Tracy, you did an amazing job on this,” Crowley said, touching the frills that lined the bottom. 

“It’s not quite complete, yet,” Tracy said, grabbed a jewelry box from Anathema. 

Tracy turned to Crowley and placed a small necklace around his neck. It was petite, with a simple gold chain and a ruby the size of a pea as the pendant. Crowley touched his chest where it rested and stared in wonder at the mirror. 

“This has been in my family for over 150 years,” Tracy explained. “My great-grandfather gave it to my great-grandmother.” 

Crowley’s heart stopped. She was giving this to him? This very obviously precious heirloom? 

“Tracy, I don’t think-” 

“I wasn’t finished,” Tracy scolded and lightly slapped Crowley’s arm. “He gave this to her when they got married, which was actually very scandalous. Despite the times, she was accused of being a witch.” 

Tracy was looking off in the distance like she wasn’t there anymore, but somewhere else, long ago. 

“The townspeople hated her and his family did not approve of the couple,” Tracy continued. “It almost tore them apart.” 

Crowley felt himself enchanted by the story. Anathema had on a huge grin. 

“How were they able to stay together?” Crowley asked. 

Tracy came back to herself then and smiled warmly at Crowley. 

“She was tough, much like yourself,” Tracy adjusted the vest behind Crowley. “She didn’t cower in the face of adversity and, well, she might have performed a ritual or two to get the family on board.” 

Tracy chuckled. 

“She was perfect for him,” she said. “I want you to have it.” 

Crowley’s chest tightened. He knew that’s where this had been going and he still felt grossly unprepared for it. He put his hands up and shook his head. 

“Tracy, I really can’t take this.” Crowley was fighting back tears, again. 

“I insist, dear,” Tracy said, grabbing his arms. “Listen, old folks like me love to give our families stuff. It makes us feel like we’ll still get to be a part of your lives after we’ve passed on.” 

Crowley felt a tear slide down his cheek. He looked at himself in the mirror. How did he get himself here? Lying to a family, being treated with nothing but the purest form of kindness. With love. He was going to hurt them so badly and he didn’t want that. He didn’t know it would be like this. He didn’t have a family. He didn’t know that he would feel so loved. 

“Are you okay?” Tracy moved her hands up and down his arms. 

Crowley blinked the tears back and took a deep breath. 

“Yes, yes, I just, er,” Crowley scrambled for something to say. “I just am worried if the sewing will be done for tomorrow, I don’t want you to feel rushed.” 

Tracy’s eyes crinkled. There was that bit of Aziraphale shining through again. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” Tracy exclaimed. “You’re going to look very handsome, I promise.” 

After getting out of the vest carefully and leaving it with Tracy and Anathema, Crowley exited the shop and looked for Aziraphale. His breathing was picking up and his heart rate was well on its way to joining the party. 

He saw Aziraphale at the dock, sitting in the boat with a book in hand. Of course. 

Aziraphale heard footsteps approaching and somehow he just knew it was Crowley. Looking up from the book he had picked up at a shop earlier, he saw that he was right. As Crowley walked over to the boat, Aziraphale began undoing the ropes that were tied to the dock post. 

“Finally, dear, I was wondering if you’d ever come out,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley didn’t reply and Aziraphale had just undone the last rope when he felt the boat jerk forward. He stumbled and, confused, turned around to see Crowley driving them. 

“Uh, Crowley?” Aziraphale shouted, trying to be heard over the whirr of the motor. “What are you doing?” 

Crowley didn’t reply, so Aziraphale pushed his way to stand next to Crowley, who looked deeply upset. 

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” 

Still no answer. Crowley was driving really fast, and the cold wind was whipping Aziraphale in the face. 

“Crowley! You’re going too fast!” 

“I forgot, okay!” Crowley finally answered. 

Aziraphale didn’t have time to be puzzled, but he took a second to look confused anyways. 

“You forgot?” Aziraphale yelled. 

“I forgot what it was like to have a family, Aziraphale!” Crowley turned to look at him. “I’ve been on my own since I was a teenager, so I forgot what it was like to feel loved like this and to be given gifts and to be asked to come visit for the holidays. Your family loves you so much, Aziraphale, do you understand?” 

Aziraphale was greatly taken aback by this. Of course he knew that his family loved him. 

“Yes, Crowley, I do know that-” 

“And you’re still willing to put them through this lie?” 

Was this what had gotten to Crowley? Aziraphale wondered what on earth Tracy and Anathema had done to him that had him in a tizzy like this. Crowley was still driving them way too fast, so Aziraphale went to reach for the wheel in order to slow them down. He wanted them to be able to talk about this without the threat of a crash looming on the horizon. 

“Yes, you said it yourself, they won’t find out, it’ll be fine,” Aziraphale put a hand out to grab the wheel when Crowley suddenly turned away from it and paced to the back of the boat. 

Aziraphale lunged for the wheel and began steering them. 

“Oh my god, when Tracy finds out she’s going to die and Anathema will be heartbroken,” Crowley was pulling his hair. “I’m messing this all up, you have a family who loves you and a good life, here, and Michael, and I don’t know if I can do this-” 

“Crowley! Calm down, it’s okay-” 

Aziraphale noticed then that they were headed straight for a buoy. He made a sharp turn and narrowly avoided a crash. He exhaled sharply, relieved. 

“Now, Crowley, you need to understand that I am perfectly aware of- Crowley?” Aziraphale turned around as he couldn’t hear Crowley’s panicked rambling anymore. 

He looked over his shoulder and saw that the boat was empty. His heart fell out of his chest as he looked frantically through the small waves for Crowley. He finally spotted him in the waters back by the buoy, where he must have fallen out of the boat during the sharp turn. 

“Crowley!” 

Aziraphale turned the boat around and made for Crowley’s writhing form. His head was still above water, thank someone. 

“Go toward the buoy,” Aziraphale instructed, hoping to be heard over the motor. 

He watched as Crowley doggy paddled his way over to the buoy, and gripped onto it for dear life. He looked so small, so fragile. Aziraphale felt his heart beat picking up speed. He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening, thanking them that Crowley hadn’t drowned. 

Aziraphale slowed the boat down and turned off the motor as he approached the buoy and Crowley. He reached out a hand and told Crowley to take it. Crowley was shivering and his death grip on the buoy didn’t let up. He started to reach toward Aziraphale, but slipped a little and retreated.

“Give me your hand, dear, I’ve got you,” Aziraphale assured him. 

Crowley finally let go and Aziraphale was able to grab and hoist him up onto the boat. He carried him, bridal-style, to the seats in the back and began digging through the storage for a blanket or something to put around Crowley’s shivering body. 

Aziraphale gave up his search and wrapped his own wooly cardigan around Crowley. Once he was sufficiently swaddled, Aziraphale pulled Crowley close and began trying to warm him up. Crowley’s face was tucked into Aziraphale’s neck and Aziraphale felt Crowley’s cold breaths tickle his throat. 

He was hugging him and moving his hands rapidly up and down Crowley’s arms, trying to get the shivering to stop. 

“What were you thinking, you blasted idiot?” Aziraphale scolded without any fire behind it.

“Wasn’t,” Crowley replied. 

Aziraphale felt his heart slow down as he held Crowley. Crowley was safe. He wasn’t in danger anymore. He was safe and he was in Aziraphale’s arms where he belonged. 

_ Oh my, where did that thought come from? _ Aziraphale thought. 

Aziraphale continued rubbing Crowley warm and kissed him on the crown of his head. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that, again.” 

Crowley snuggled into Aziraphale’s chest and kissed his neck. 

“I won’t, angel.” 

Aziraphale exhaled in relief and tried not to think about how vulnerable Crowley had looked in the water. Did he not know how to swim? Or had he just been taken off guard? Either way, Aziraphale felt a surge of protectiveness over Crowley. 

He promised to never let Crowley get hurt while he was around, ever again. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys get an unexpected visitor the day before their wedding

After drying Crowley off and making sure he was sufficiently warm, Aziraphale drove them back to the house. He was reluctant to let Crowley get too close to the edge of the boat, so he kept one hand around Crowley’s back and used the other to steer. 

The ride was quiet, the only sound the purring motor and the occasional splash from the waves. They made it back to the house in record time. Just as they were walking up the short dock to the yard, Aziraphale spotted Gabriel coming out of the house and walking toward them. He stopped just short of the stairs. 

“I see you two are finally back,” Gabriel commented. “Come here, I want to show you something.” 

Something about Gabriel’s demeanor made the hair on the back of Aziraphale’s neck stand up. He could feel that he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. Crowley shot him a questioning look, but all Aziraphale could do was shrug. They followed Gabriel into the barn off to the side of the house. 

“Anathema and Tracy will not hear one word of this, got it?” Gabriel asked. 

They both nodded. Aziraphale put himself a little more in front of Crowley. 

Gabriel turned the corner and whispered something to whoever was behind it. Finally, Mr. Tyler stepped out from the shadows. 

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand grab onto his arm and squeeze. 

“I told you I’d be checking up on you,” Mr. Tyler said. “Though, I wasn’t planning on it being this… up close.” 

Aziraphale turned to Gabriel. 

“What is this?” Aziraphale demanded. “Why is he here?” 

Gabriel shook his head and sighed. 

“Look, I didn’t go snooping around for him or anything,” Gabriel explained. “Mr. Tyler here called me. He said that if the two of you are lying about this marriage, and he very much believes that you are, you could go to jail, Aziraphale. Jail. Federal prison, in fact. So, I called a cab service and drove him up here.” 

Aziraphale once again put himself a little more in front of Crowley, who looked terrified. 

“Gabriel-” 

“Lucky for you, Mr. Fell, your brother has made an excellent negotiation on your behalf,” Mr. Tyler interrupted with a smirk. 

Aziraphale stopped and stared at Mr. Tyler in horror. Gabriel was an excellent negotiator, it’s what made him so good at his job. If he could negotiate something with an agent of the government, Aziraphale could only imagine it meant the worst for Crowley. 

“I’m going to give you 30 seconds to answer this question or the deal is off,” Mr. Tyler said, slowly. “You can tell us that this marriage is fake right now and we’ll let you off the hook and  _ he _ ,” here, Mr. Tyler nodded at Crowley, “will be shipped back to South Africa. No federal prison. Not even a mark on your history.” 

Mr. Tyler pulled out his tape recorder and hit start. There was a pause. 10 seconds passed. Aziraphale stared at Mr. Tyler and then looked at Crowley, who wouldn’t make eye contact with him. 

“Well?” Mr. Tyler asked. 

“Take the deal, Aziraphale!” Gabriel whisper-shouted. 

20 seconds. Aziraphale had to make a choice. He could tell the truth and avoid prison. 

25 seconds. But then Crowley’s life would get exponentially harder and he would be deported. Ripped away from the only home he’s ever really had for himself. 

28 seconds.

“No.” 

Gabriel groaned. 

“Don’t be stupid, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, coldly. “This isn’t the time to be a martyr.” 

“You want me to make a statement? Here’s my god damn statement,” Aziraphale leaned into the tape recorder in Mr. Tyler’s hand. “I started working for Anthony J. Crowley five years ago. Six months ago, we started dating and we fell in love. I asked him to marry me and he said ‘yes,’ end of story.” 

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and pulled him out through the side door and into the yard. He tugged him all the way to their room and closed the door gently behind them. As soon as they were in their room, Aziraphale began pacing. 

Crowley sat at the edge of the bed and wrapped Aziraphale’s cardigan tighter around himself. 

“So…” Crowley started. “Are you sure about this?” 

Aziraphale had just risked his life for Crowley. He had been doing that all along, of course, but now he was given an out and he still chose to continue lying. For Crowley. In all honesty, Crowley figured that Aziraphale would’ve chosen to rat him out right then and there. Crowley wouldn’t have blamed him, not for a second. But he didn’t. 

“No, not really,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Look, I have appreciated everything you’ve done-” 

“You’d do the same for me, right?” 

Crowley wasn’t so sure about that. Would he have done the same? Before all of this, before Tadfield and soft touches and a stolen kiss and a warm embrace and a wooly cardigan that smells like parchment and sandalwood? Crowley couldn’t be positive that he would have. He hoped he would have. He would now. 

A knock at the door. Crowley stood up. 

“I hope everyone is decent,” Tracy said as she came blazing in, hand covering her eyes. She removed the hand to see Crowley and Aziraphale standing in the middle of the room. “Hello, you two.” 

Tracy smiled at them and Crowley felt a pang of guilt. It was his fault that Aziraphale was in this mess. 

“Now, it’s the night before your wedding, so Aziraphale will be sleeping elsewhere,” Tracy walked over to the bed and picked up the top blanket. “You guys have  _ got _ to give the lovers cover a rest.” 

Crowley and Aziraphale started stammering. 

“We didn’t-” 

“Tracy, we haven’t-” 

Tracy flapped her hands at them. The bracelets decorating her wrists jangled. 

“None of that,” Tracy grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and started tugging him toward the door. “Now, come on! Give your groom a kiss goodnight and let’s get a wiggle on. You have the rest of your lives to be together, what’s one night apart?” 

Tracy let go of Aziraphale and left the room. They stared at each other awkwardly. 

“I should probably go with her or she’ll-” 

“Come right back?” 

“Yeah.” 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for another second. He looked like he was making another decision. 

Just as Crowley was about to say something, Aziraphale stepped into his space and gently grabbed his chin. Before Crowley could register what was happening, Aziraphale had pressed his lips to Crowley’s. It was chaste, just like their first kiss two days ago. But something felt different. 

Crowley moved his hand to stroke Aziraphale’s jaw. Aziraphale hummed and pulled away, panting a little. He looked like he still wanted to say something. 

Instead, he stepped out of Crowley's personal space and walked toward the door, turning around when he reached the doorframe. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Aziraphale asked, smirking. 

Crowley felt himself flush. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, angel,” Crowley heard himself say. 

Aziraphale’s smirk grew into a grin and he left to follow Tracy down the hallway. Crowley, now alone in the middle of the room, was smiling to himself like an idiot. He touched his fingers to his lips. They tingled. 

Yes, something was different. But what, Crowley just couldn’t put his finger on. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the wedding day!!

Crowley tossed back and forth in bed. He couldn’t seem to fall asleep with the guilt that was weighing heavy on his chest. He knew, logically, that this was Aziraphale’s choice. Aziraphale knew the consequences and was still choosing to help Crowley. Aziraphale was an adult. He could make his own decisions. 

Crowley flopped onto his side and stared out the window. What did he do to deserve an angel like that? 

_ Nothing, because you don’t, _ Crowley thought to himself, bitterly. 

Crowley shoved his head into the pillows, hoping to drown out all of his intruding thoughts. 

Aziraphale wasn’t faring any better. He had been given the couch for the night and was trying to calm himself down with some light reading. The only books around were from his childhood, but the familiarity and nostalgia of stories well-read and practically memorized usually bring with them a warm blanket of comfort. But not tonight. 

Aziraphale knew he was making the right choice by not taking the deal offered by Mr. Tyler. He knew in his heart- uh, in his gut that it was right. So why was he so nervous about tomorrow? 

After a few more hours of tossing and turning, Aziraphale was woken up by the smell of tea and muffins wafting through the living room. Anathema had made him breakfast to celebrate his wedding day. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was the sleepless night or the nerves, but he almost cried out of gratitude. He was so glad that Anathema was his cousin. He didn’t know where he’d be without her. 

Aziraphale scarfed down the muffin and chugged the tea and went to Tracy’s room to get dressed. He looked at the suit that was sitting neatly on the bed. Black wasn’t usually his style, but he was told that Crowley was wearing a modified version of Tracy’s wedding dress, so he opted for the darker outfit. Yin and Yang, as they say. 

It only took a few minutes to slip into the suit and then he spent approximately 30 minutes messing with his hair. The curls were sticking up all over the place thanks to his slumber on the couch. 

Finally, he got the curls looking exactly how he wanted. He stepped out into the hallway and heard the sound of dozens of voices. The guests must already be arriving. Tracy must’ve invited half of Tadfield to this wedding. Aziraphale smiled to himself. 

She was so happy for him. 

Aziraphale stood outside of the barn and welcomed guests as they came in to be seated. He hugged old neighbors, shook hands with former classmates, and chatted with everyone who said “hello.” He thought back to Crowley’s comment about the Kennedy’s. Aziraphale hadn’t seen it before, but he could definitely see the comparison now. 

As the last of the guests filed in, Tracy and Anathema walked up to Aziraphale and each gave him a kiss on the cheek. Aziraphale felt very warm and… happy. Yes, that was the feeling. He couldn’t quite place it this morning, but it was undeniable now. He felt happy. 

The barn was covered in soft, warm string lights and had flares of white tulle strung along the rafts. Throughout the tulle were strings of ivy garland and sunflowers. The aisle was covered with a cream fabric, and the guests were sitting in brown, wooden folding chairs that had the same tulle from the walls hung on the back. Despite being put together in less than two days, the place looked absolutely enchanting. 

Aziraphale spotted Mr. Tyler sitting in the front row. Ah, so he had decided to stay. Well, that was perfectly fine. Aziraphale wasn’t afraid of him. 

Aziraphale finally decided to get in his place at the end of the aisle and greeted Shadwell. The man was of  _ many _ talents. 

“Good mornin’, laddie,” Shadwell greeted him. 

“Shadwell.” Aziraphale wondered where the Hell this man got his license to ordain, and if it was even official, but it was much too late to think about that. 

Before Aziraphale could think any harder about the merits of having the stripper from your fiancé’s bachelor party ordain your wedding, soft violin music began to fill the barn and the guests stood up. 

Aziraphale found himself eager to see Crowley and whipped his head to the barn entrance, a giddy grin plastered on his face. 

Crowley emerged from the entrance, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. He looked, well, he looked gorgeous. Aziraphale felt his mouth hanging open as he took in Crowley. His hair was perfectly tousled, he had on slim white pants, tailored to a T, and he was wearing a frilly silken white vest. He was also sporting a very fetching flush across his cheeks. Crowley was every bit the blushing bride and Aziraphale felt his heart rate quicken. 

The sunlight lit him up from behind as he made his way slowly down the aisle, never breaking eye contact with Aziraphale. This time,  _ Crowley _ was an angel. 

Since Crowley didn’t have any parents to speak of, Tracy walked him down the aisle. She had been surprised when Crowley asked this morning, but she accepted immediately and happily. Tracy placed a peck on Crowley’s cheek as they reached Aziraphale and parted ways. 

Crowley turned to Aziraphale and smiled, nervously. Aziraphale was relieved to see Crowley appeared to be as anxious as he was. 

Shadwell looked Crowley up and down and winked. Crowley blushed harder and mumbled something that sounded like “bloody old witchfinder.” Shadwell put both of his hands up. 

“Everyone, please be seated.” 

Distantly, past the rush of blood in his ears, Aziraphale heard the sound of dozens of chairs squeaking as the guests sat down. 

“We are gathered ‘ere today tah give thanks and tah celebrate one of life's greatest moments,” Shadwell began. “To give recognition to the beauty, honesty, an’ unselfish ways of Anthony Crowley an’ Aziraphale Fell’s true love in front of family and friends.”

Crowley shifted nervously next to Aziraphale. 

“Fer it is their family and friends who taught Crowley an’ Aziraphale tah love,” Shadwell continued. “So, it is only right that family an’ friends are all-” 

Crowley had put his hand up slowly. Shadwell eyed it with curiosity. 

“Er, do you have a question, laddie?” 

Crowley looked genuinely confused. As if he didn’t realize he had even raised his hand. 

“Huh? Oh,” Crowley looked at his hand. “Uh, no.” 

“Yer hand is up,” Shadwell deadpanned. 

The guests all shifted in their seats, recognizing that this was about to get interesting. 

“W-well, I don’t have a question, I just sort of want to say something,” Crowley explained. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale could see Mr. Tyler lean forward in his chair. Aziraphale nudged Crowley lightly with his elbow. 

“Crowley,” he scolded. Aziraphale could practically feel the stupid idea energy radiating off of Crowley. 

Shadwell leaned forward so that he could whisper to Crowley, “Can it wait until after the ceremony?” 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who was pleading as silently as he could for Crowley to stop whatever he was about to do, and then back to Shadwell. 

“Uh, no, no it can’t,” Crowley answered. 

Shadwell stared at him for a moment before nodding for Crowley to go ahead. Crowley turned to the guests and caught Aziraphale rolling his eyes in frustration along the way. He looked out over the guests and saw a room full of people who cared so much about Aziraphale. And Mr. Tyler, who was looking delightedly at Crowley. 

“Hello, everyone,” Crowley stammered. The crowd murmured an answering ‘hello.’ “Thank you all for coming out on such short notice.” 

Aziraphale had a knot of anxiety in his belly, but it wasn’t the same anxious delight from before. This anxiety was wrought with fear. He didn’t know what Crowley was doing, but he knew it couldn’t be good. 

“I have a bit of an announcement,” Crowley said, swallowing visibly. “A confession, actually.” 

Crowley took a deep breath. 

“I’m, uh, South African,” Crowley chuckled. “I bet you didn’t know that. And my visa recently expired, which meant I was threatened with deportation.” 

The crowd was whispering amongst themselves wildly at the mention of an expired visa at an unexpectedly fast wedding. 

“In order to stay in your lovely, lovely country for longer, I forced Aziraphale here to marry me,” Crowley nodded toward Aziraphale. “I watched him work harder than anyone for the last five years, and I knew that if I blackmailed him, he would do it.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale started. “Don’t-” 

“I forced him to come up here and lie to all of you,” Crowley spoke over Aziraphale. “I thought it would be easy, lying to a bunch of strangers. But I have come to find that it’s not easy at all. It’s very hard in fact, you’re all so wonderful.”

Here, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. The crowd gasped and the scandalized whispers were getting louder. Tracy and Anathema looked shocked, Gabriel looked smug, and Mr. Tyler still had on a huge grin. 

“You have a loving family, angel,” Crowley's voice cracked. “Don’t let me come between you. This is my fault.” 

Aziraphale felt himself tearing up. 

“Crowley-” 

“Aziraphale. This was a business transaction and you held up your end, and now the deal is off,” Crowley’s eyes were watering. 

Crowley stepped off of the altar. He whispered a quick “I’m so sorry” to Anathema and Tracy and walked past Mr. Tyler. 

“You are meeting me at my car, we’re going back to London together,” Crowley said to Mr. Tyler, not stopping his walk back up the aisle. Mr. Tyler got up and followed Crowley out of the barn.

Aziraphale stood on the altar alone, tears still prickling at his eyes, as chaos broke out around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am... so sorry


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of crowley's departure

Voices. Somewhere, distantly, Aziraphale heard voices. It was like he was drowning. They were muffled, but loud. He couldn’t make out words. Finally, a hand gently placed on his cheek brought him back. It was Anathema, and she was staring at him with a confused look in her eye. 

“Aziraphale, how could you lie to us like this?” she asked. “What were you thinking,  _ lying _ to the federal government?” 

Aziraphale looked around. Minutes ago he had experienced the most peaceful moment of his life. Everything was good. He was content, he was happy, Crowley was there. Crowley. Where did Crowley go?

“Aziraphale, this isn’t like you,” Tracy scolded. Gabriel sidled up next to her. 

“I told you you should have taken the deal,” Gabriel sneered. “At least Crowley has sense.” 

Aziraphale shook his head and pushed past his family. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, I just need a minute to gather my thoughts,” Aziraphale replied. “I’ll explain everything later, I’m sorry.” 

Crowley.

Aziraphale brushed past the rest of the crowd and jogged up to the house. He had to find Crowley before it was too late, before he left. He had to tell him- he had to tell him that, well, he had to talk to him. 

He loosened his tie as he ran up the stairs to the guest bedroom where they had been staying. He burst into find it empty and clean. Too clean. All of Crowley’s stuff was gone, telling Aziraphale that he had pre-planned this, and was packed before the wedding had even started. But why? 

Why did he even walk down the aisle? Why did he almost let the wedding happen if he was so sure he wouldn’t go through with it? Why did he decide to do it today and not yesterday? What had held Crowley back? 

Before Aziraphale could pace a hole into the rug, he spotted something laying on the bed. It was Crowley’s vest, the one made from Tracy’s wedding dress. He caressed the frills before his eyes caught the stack of paper underneath it. He picked it up. It was his manuscript, the one he wanted published as part of him and Crowley’s original deal. 

There was a little note attached to it. Aziraphale gingerly removed it from its clip on the manuscript and read it. 

_ Angel,  _

_ You were right. I know you’re probably thinking, “Of course I was, but about what?” _

_ This book is special. This story is special  _

_ I lied when I told you it wasn’t good because I knew that publishing it meant that I'd lose you as an assistant, but you have an extraordinary eye and an amazing talent for storytelling. I'll make sure we buy this and print it before I leave for Capetown. _

_ I hope you have an amazing life and find happiness and peace and love. True love. I’ve been lucky enough to feel it, myself. I hope you find that same luck some day.  _

_ You deserve it.  _

_ -Crowley  _

Aziraphale watched as a tear dropped onto the paper. He read the words over and over again. Even though the deal wasn’t going through as planned, Crowley was still going to make sure he was published. He waited for the joy to set in. This was what he wanted, right? 

Right. 

Then why did he feel so empty? 

He heard someone enter the room and jumped slightly. He turned and saw Michael, who must’ve followed him here after his swift exit from the ceremony, and wiped away a few stray tears. 

“So…” she started. “That was crazy. Bet ya people in Tadfield will be talking about this for a long time.” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied. 

Michael looked at him, her face twisted with concern. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, clasping her hands together. 

“Nope,” Aziraphale didn’t feel like lying anymore. “Because here’s the thing - Crowley is a major pain in my ass.” 

Michael only looked more confused at this statement. 

“He’s been a pain in my ass for five years,  _ five years _ . I have dealt with it all - the weird sunglasses, the odd hours, the general bitchiness, and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me  _ this _ ,” Aziraphale crumpled up the note and threw it. “To my face? I understand leaving, I guess, but we had a deal.” 

There was a beat of awkward silence. 

“Sorry, he just makes me crazy,” Aziraphale plopped down on the bed and ran his hands through his curls anxiously. 

“I can see that,” Michael replied, sitting down next to him and putting a hand on his knee. “But you’re just gonna let him go?” 

Aziraphale whipped his head around to look at Michael. 

“What-” 

“Aziraphale. Come on. I’m not stupid. You love him.” 

Aziraphale felt like he was just punched in the gut. He could practically feel the wind being knocked out of him as if a fist had just pummeled his abdomen. 

And yet, he didn’t feel an ounce of denial in his body. Because it was true. He was in love with Crowley. 

He was  _ really _ in love with Crowley. When did that happen? 

Aziraphale went over the last few days in his head. Their first kiss, so gentle and sweet, had transfixed Aziraphale for the rest of the afternoon. Crowley opening up to him and telling him funny stories to get his mind off of the conversation with Gabriel. Seeing Crowley dance with Tracy in the woods. Hearing his genuine laugh. The horror of seeing Crowley helpless in the water, of seeing him hurt and jealous just a few minutes before that. 

He loved him. And Aziraphale was starting to think that Crowley might love him back. 

Aziraphale stood up and ran back down to the yard, Michael following him. He pushed past the guests once more and walked to the front of the yard. 

“Where are you going?” Gabriel demanded. 

“I have to talk to him,” Aziraphale replied, curtly. 

“No, what are you thinking?” Gabriel shoved Aziraphale back a few paces. 

“Boys!” Tracy tried to separate them. She had nothing on them height-wise or weight-wise. Anathema attempted to pull her away. 

“This has nothing to do with you, Gabriel,” Aziraphale yelled. 

“Boys-”

“It has to do with my family, so it has to do with me.” 

“Boys!”

“Why can’t you just let me handle my own life?” 

Tracy gave up trying to get their attention. She turned around and started walking toward Anathema when her face turned pale and she started gasping for air. She clutched her chest and began to fall. Luckily, Anathema swooped in and caught her before she could hit the ground. 

“I think I’m having-” Tracy took another deep breath. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” 

Anathema looked between Gabriel and Aziraphale, who were staring at Tracy with their jaws hanging open, frozen in place. 

“Well? Someone call 911.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fell family realizes something important

Aziraphale was following Anathema into the back of the ambulance. Tracy had been wheeled in on a small stretcher, and the EMTs were attaching an oxygen mask to her face. Aziraphale was slowly going numb. First he lost Crowley and now Tracy might be next? 

Anathema and Gabriel were sitting along the other side of Tracy’s horizontal form. Aziraphale held Tracy’s hand gingerly in his. The ambulance started speeding away from the wedding and toward the hospital. 

Tracy squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and moved to take off the mask, so Aziraphale motioned for Gabriel and Anathema to stop her. 

“Tracy, you have to keep that on,” Gabriel said as he tried to put the mask back on her. 

“Listen to me,” Tracy said, swatting his hands away. “You two have to stop fighting.” 

Gabriel and Aziraphale looked away, embarrassed. 

“You’re family! You have to promise me that when I’m gone, you will take care of each other and be there for each other,” Tracy took a deep breath. “Promise me that you’ll be okay when I pass, that you’ll stop squabbling and try to see each other as individuals. Gabriel, Aziraphale is an adult - treat him as such. And Aziraphale? We just miss you, including Gabriel. Promise you’ll make an effort to be a part of this family.” 

Gabriel looked at Aziraphale. 

“I- I promise, okay?” Aziraphale replied. 

Anathema nudged Gabriel hard in the ribs. 

“I promise, too, Tracy,” Gabriel said, rubbing his torso. “I swear it.” 

Tracy smiled serenely. 

“The spirits can take me now,” Tracy laid back down on the stretcher and closed her eyes. 

Aziraphale sighed. If Tracy died at least he was able to give her a promise he’d do what she asked. And he would. He would make more of an effort to see his family, he would visit more, text Anathema more, argue with Gabriel less. 

Aziraphale watched Tracy for any sign of her passing. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. 

“I guess the spirits weren’t ready for me,” Tracy giggled and sat up, taking the mask off in earnest 

Aziraphale and Gabriel gasped as realization dawned on them. Anathema just laughed. 

“Faking a heart attack, Tracy, is that what we’ve come to?” Gabriel threw his hands up and groaned. 

Aziraphale groaned, but he had to admit - the woman was good. She had the whole family in the palm of her hands and she even got Aziraphale and Gabriel to stop fighting and promise to do better, which is more than she had been able to do for their entire lives. 

“Well, you two wouldn’t shut up,” Tracy clapped her hands together delightedly. “Now it’s time to focus on the real matter at hands - Crowley.” 

Gabriel looked confused. 

“What about him? He’s on his way back to London to be shipped out first thing tomorrow,” Gabriel said. “What more is there to do?” 

Anathema swatted at him, again, and rolled her eyes. 

“We have to go after him, obviously,” Anathema said, matter-of-factly. 

“Why?” 

“Because,” Anathema turned to Aziraphale, who was blushing. “Aziraphale loOoves him~” 

“What?” Gabriel whipped his head around to look at Aziraphale. “This was all fake… wasn’t it?” 

Aziraphale put on a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his head. 

“Well, it  _ was _ …” 

Tracy squealed with delight. While Aziraphale was both upset that he had been so easy to read and happy that Tracy apparently approved, there was still one little problem standing in their way. 

“Tracy, Crowley is probably more than halfway back to London by now,” Aziraphale said, patting her hand. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m too late.” 

Tracy made a “tsk” sound at him. 

“Newton,” Tracy called to the EMT driving the ambulance. “I’m feeling much better, how about we take a detour?” 

Newt, a local 20-something from Tadfield who had an unfortunate history with technology, began stammering in the front seat. 

“Miss Tracy, I don’t- I don’t think we’re authorized to-” 

Anathema slid up behind the driver's seat. 

“Hiya, Newt.” 

Newt’s blush deepend. 

“Hi, Anathema.” 

“You know, the Fell family owns the hospital, right?” Anathema asked. “So, if you think about it, we’re kind of your bosses.” 

Newt gulped loudly. 

“I guess London is only an hour or so away…” 

“Thanks, Newt!” Anathema gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and settled back into her spot, smiling giddily. 

Aziraphale was smiling and shaking his head. He couldn’t believe the lengths his family would go just to see him have a chance at happiness. They were literally hijacking an ambulance and driving it to London all for Aziraphale. All for him to tell Crowley he loved him. 

Aziraphale tried not to think about the very-real possibility of Crowley not loving him back. He felt his heart begin to beat faster and faster, like it was trying to escape his chest. His palms were getting sweaty, so he wiped them on his pant legs. 

“Aziraphale, I can hear your anxiety from over here,” Anthema said, interrupting Aziraphale’s thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do,” Anathema said with force. “You’re thinking that this is all a mistake and that you’re being silly and that Crowley doesn’t feel the same.” 

Aziraphale inwardly cursed Anathema. She was always able to read people like a goddamn chapter book. 

“Maybe.” 

Anathema sighed and put a hand over Tracy to touch Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Aziraphale, listen to me - he loves you,” Anathema said. “He loves you back, I promise. I could see it in his face when you were around. We’ll find him before he leaves for South Africa, we will.” 

Although Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure that he believed her, he wanted to. And that want followed them all the way through Oxfordshire, hid in the trees that were whirring past, wove through the breeze that was blowing through the ambulance’s open window, and settled itself in the wheels of the ambulance as it sped down the highway. 

Aziraphale would get to tell Crowley how he felt if it was the last thing he told him. But God, did he hope it wasn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you guys believe we're almost done????? thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will aziraphale reach crowley in time? and if he does, what will crowley say?

Crowley had opted to stop by the office after dropping Mr. Tyler off at the immigration offices. He only had 24 hours to pack the rest of his stuff and then he’d be on the first flight out to Cape Town. Seemed a bit fast to him, but there was nothing to be done about it. 

Crowley felt guilt settle into the pool of his stomach as he hit the button on the elevator. Aziraphale. He had left him at the altar. As much as it had hurt Crowley to leave, it looked like it hurt Aziraphale even more to watch him go. 

_ Nonsense, of course he wasn’t sad to see you go. Poor bugger is probably happy with you out of his life now, _ Crowley thought to himself. It wouldn’t do to daydream about some scenario where Aziraphale had actually reciprocated Crowley’s feelings. 

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he walked through the desks to his office. He had notified Beez and Dagon of what had transpired - all of it. Not the lie, but the truths. Beez probably had kept their mouth shut, but Dagon was a bit of a gossip, so there was no doubt that the entire staff knew what had happened in Tadfield. 

The whispers that started up as soon as Crowley was presumably out of earshot at every corner proved his suspicions. 

Crowley stepped into his office and closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath. He was here with a purpose and he’d fulfill it, nosy coworkers be damned. 

He began methodically putting his plants and various trinkets in a box that Beez had set up. He placed the few personal items that had been sitting throughout his office gently into the box, tucking them between succulents. As he rifled through his desk drawers, he pulled out a small, white card. It had Aziraphale’s name on it. Crowley smiled as he thought back to the day he presented Aziraphale with his first official business cards. He had seemed happy.

Being the sentimental git that he is, Crowley tucked the card into his breast pocket. 

Once he decided the office was sufficiently barren, he gathered up the box and began to make his way out the door. He was in the middle of taking one last look around at the view when he heard a small commotion outside. He kicked the door open lightly with his foot and swung around to come face to face with… with… 

“Angel?” Crowley asked. But he could see him plain as day. Aziraphale. In the office. He was still in his tux. 

Aziraphale was catching his breath and panted a bit. 

“One moment, dear,” Aziraphale put both hands on his knees. “Not a fan of running.” 

Crowley almost dropped the box, so he set it down on the floor next to him. 

“How- how did you get here? What’s going on-” 

“Ambulance. Don’t ask,” Aziraphale huffed. “And what’s going on is this: I have something to say to you.” 

Crowley gulped. Aziraphale looked mad, but what could he possibly be mad about? Crowley made sure that Aziraphale wouldn’t be going to jail for Crowley. He could move on and forget this ever happened. 

_ Maybe he’s mad because you outed him as someone who lied to the federal government in front of all of his family and friends, _ Crowley’s mind helpfully supplied. 

“What-” Crowley started. 

“Shut up.” 

The office was filled with gasps. Crowley had almost forgotten that they were in the middle of the cubicles, making quite the spectacle of themselves. Aziraphale had a single finger held up. 

“You’re going to listen to me for once, Crowley.” 

Crowley didn’t know what else to do so he just nodded slowly, showing that he was prepared to do so. 

“Three days ago, I loathed you,” Aziraphale said. Crowley winced. “I used to dream about poisoning your tea or maybe killing your plants.” 

Crowley’s heart sank. 

“Well, that’s nice.” 

“I told you to shut up, dear,” Aziraphale snapped. “Then we took this little trip to Tadfield and things started to change. Things changed when we kissed.” 

More gasps from the office, this time paired with “ooh”s. Crowley felt his face burning up. 

“I know you felt it, too,” Aziraphale pushed forward. “Things changed when you told me about your childhood, about your tattoo, when we saw each other naked.” 

“Naked?!” Hastur cried from his cubicle. 

“I didn’t see anything,” Crowley mumbled. 

“Yes, you did,” Azirphale was looking very intensely at Crowley. “But you see, I didn’t realize there had been a change, until I found myself standing in a barn… husband-less.” 

Crowley’s heart shot back up from his stomach and lodged itself in his throat. He couldn’t mean… 

“You can imagine my disappointment, then, when I realized that the man I love is about to be kicked out of the country,” Aziraphale said.    


Crowley felt the floor fall out from under him. Did he say “love?” Aziraphale was walking toward Crowley, now, not looking away from his face for even a second. The entire office melted away and it was just them. Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s cheek. 

“So, Crowley, marry me,” Aziraphale sighed. “For real.” 

Crowley felt tears forming in his eyes. 

“Angel- Aziraphale, listen,” Crowley whispered. “I’m terrible, and mean, and I get cranky, and I wear these stupid sunglasses, and you’re so… good… and kind and sweet. You don’t really want to be with me.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a pitying look. 

“I do.” 

Crowley shook his head, Aziraphale’s warm palm not budging from Crowley’s cheek. 

“No, you don’t,” Crowley tried to explain through the sob he felt coming on. “There’s a reason I’ve been alone for so long, it’s- it’s comfortable, I like it. It’s easy.” 

“You’re right. It is easy,” Aziraphale replied. 

Crowley felt his resolve crackle and snap right there. Aziraphale wanted him.  _ Really  _ wanted him. He was being given an out, but Crowley found that he didn’t want it. He wanted in. 

“I’m scared, angel,” Crowley whispered. 

Aziraphale smiled and suddenly the sun was shining right there in the middle of the office. Its name was Aziraphale. Crowley basked in his glow. 

“Me too.” 

Crowley drew closer to Aziraphale, a hair's breadth away from his lips. 

“Aren’t you supposed to, like, get down on your knees or something?” Crowley asked, playfully. 

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley felt his whole body light up with it. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then?” Aziraphale put his other arm around Crowley’s waist. 

“You’re a right bastard.” 

And then their lips were pressed together. Somewhere in the distance, the office was whooping and hollering as Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a dip and kissed him like he meant it, right there in front of God and all of their colleagues. 

Crowley grabbed onto Aziraphale’s arms to keep himself from hitting the ground, but he knew that Aziraphale wouldn’t let him fall. 

They kissed sweetly for a moment more before Aziraphale put Crowley back upright and picked him up in his arms. Aziraphale kissed him again for good measure and pulled back. 

They were smiling like fools at each other. Absolute besotted fools. But they were each other’s besotted fool, now. Aziraphale kissed his nose. Crowley would be a fool every day for the rest of his life if it meant a happiness like this. 

And it seemed like Aziraphale would take him up on that. 


	23. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ALERT: they get their happy ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, it's over! i want to start by thanking every single one of you. you don't know how much the comments have meant to me while i was posting this. i want to thank kaleigh and aeron, again, for humoring me and reading my shit to make sure i don't sound like an idiot. 
> 
> and now, at long last, i present: the epilogue!

_ Three Months Later…  _

Crowley fidgeted with his vest. It looked crooked. If he could just tug it a little more to the left… Nope. Now it looks even worse. He messed with it for another five minutes before sighing and giving up, running a hand through his hair. 

Why was he so nervous? They had technically done this already, though the follow-through was nonexistent. If anything, he should be seasoned at getting married to Aziraphale. Second time’s the charm, right? 

They had wanted to do a simple courthouse wedding for their actual, real, not-just-because-one-of-us-is-trying-to-stay-in-the-country marriage, but Tracy and Anathema had insisted on letting them throw another wedding up at the Fell’s barn in Tadfield. Crowley was uneasy and afraid that all of Aziraphale’s friends and family would be even less accepting the second time around, but Aziraphale assured him that none of it mattered as long as they were together. 

And that was kind of sweet, Crowley had to admit. 

So that’s how he found himself, once again, getting dressed in the guest bedroom of Tracy’s large lodge-style home. This time, however, he wasn’t packing frantically and scribbling out a shoddy goodbye note to the love of his life. No, this time he was giddy with anticipation and his bags were already packed for their honeymoon and waiting in the car. 

He lightly touched the frills on the white vest and allowed himself to ruminate some more on the differences between the last time he had it on and now. He remembered when Tracy and Anathema had taken him to get it fitted and smiled at the memory. How lucky he was that those two women would now be family to him. 

There was a light knock on the door and Tracy peered in. 

“Are you decent?” Tracy asked. 

“Well, you’re already looking directly at me, so it’s a bit too late for that,” Crowley laughed nervously. “Yes, I’m decent. Decent as I  _ can _ be.” 

Tracy entered the room in full and gave Crowley a look. 

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” she replied as she crossed the room to fix his vest. Oh, sure,  _ now _ it’s straight. She must have a magic touch. 

Instead of answering her question directly, Crowley turned around again to look in the mirror and brushed at his eyebrows with his fingers. 

“Do you think-” Crowley cut himself off and sighed. 

Tracy, ever patient, cupped her hand on his elbow and put her chin on his shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror. 

“Do I think what, dearie?” she asked. 

Crowley thought it was silly, but he might as well just get it out before Tracy pries it from his cold, dead hands. 

“Do you think he really wants to do this?” Crowley hated how small he sounded. He hated the tremble in his voice, but what he hated most of all was the fact that he was doubting Aziraphale’s feelings at all. 

Tracy tutted at him. 

“Crowley, he loves you, I promise. Plus, I did a reading earlier and the cards are very much in your favor.” 

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever his feelings about tarot before, he knew now to trust Tracy and to trust the cards. He was already feeling better, anyways. Regardless of if it was in his head, he felt comforted by the prediction. 

“Come on, let’s get downstairs,” Tracy said, leading Crowley to the door. 

They walked down the stairs and out to the barn. Crowley smoothed down the front of his vest one last time and gave himself a few light slaps before standing in his place at the door. Tracy smiled up at him and as the music started, they began their walk down the aisle. 

Crowley reminded himself that this time there was nothing to be worried about. No declarations of deceit, no plan to run away. This was real. 

He looked up to see Aziraphale standing at the altar and he looked just as breathtaking as the last time. It was so odd to see him in a black suit, but he wore it so well. 

Their eyes met and Crowley felt a small spark shoot through him. Belatedly, he realized that Aziraphale had started crying. He watched as small tears fell down his cheeks. Crowley ached to run up the rest of the aisle and brush them away with his lips and a litany of reassurances, but he held back. He reminded himself that they were most likely tears of joy instead of sorrow. 

Finally, he and Tracy were at the end of the aisle and Tracy parted from him with a kiss on the cheek. Aziraphale stepped forward and put his arm out for Crowley to take and they made their way to the last stop - the altar. Shadwell was officiating again, and was eyeing Crowley up with suspicion now more than playful flirtation. Honestly, Crowley would rather be the subject of speculation than the latter. 

The vows were simple and heartfelt, but Crowley couldn’t remember any of them. He only remembers crying softly as Aziraphale said his and feeling like a silly old sap. Which he was. He could admit that much to himself. 

Aziraphale reached up and gently brushed a few of Crowley’s stray tears away, which only led to more. They exchanged rings, simple gold bands, and Shadwell finally said, “I now pronounce ye husband an’ husband. You may kiss the groom.” 

Crowley practically pounced onto Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around his neck and knocking him back about two feet. Once they regained balance, Aziraphale pulled Crowley in even closer, deepening the kiss. The crowd clapped and Crowley could swear he saw Anathema wipe her eyes. He would definitely hold that against her later. 

When they separated, they were staring at each other with those besotted grins, again. Crowley started laughing and kissed Aziraphale again, peppering little kisses all over his face until finally they turned and walked back up the aisle together. Husbands. 

The reception started and Crowley found that he and Aziraphale were not going to be given the opportunity to sit down. They greeted all of the guests, chatted with each table for a few minutes, made sure everything was going okay with the caterer, greeted more guests, said goodbye to ones that were leaving - there was no break. They finally got the chance to sit for a moment when everyone was busy getting food. 

“You know, dear, everyone seems pretty distracted,” Aziraphale said, eyeing up the buffet table. 

Crowley looked in the direction Aziraphale was staring. 

“M’yeah, do you wanna go get some food?” Crowley had to admit, the caterer was fantastic. They had an assortment of oysters, lobster, steak, potatoes, and a whole list of luxurious pickings. All thanks to Tracy, of course. “I know you’re probably hungry.” 

“Yes, but not for anything up there,” Aziraphale stood up and tugged on Crowley’s hand until he was standing next to him. He began tugging Crowley in the direction of the barn. 

“Did you want to… order… a pizza or something?” Crowley tried to work out what food could possibly be missing from the buffet that Aziraphale could be craving right now, especially because he knew it had been hours since they both ate. “Although, are you sure? Because they have all of your favorit- mmph!” 

Crowley was cut off as Aziraphale shoved him against the wall on the far side of the barn, facing away from the tent where the reception was taking place. 

“No, dear, I had something else I was hungry for,” Aziraphale kissed him. “My husband.” 

Just as the gears in Crowley’s head started turning and he went to pull Aziraphale in for another kiss, they heard someone clear their throat a few feet away. Aziraphale sighed heavily as Crowley pulled away from him and turned to see who it was. 

“Mr. Tyler,” Crowley said coolly. “Having fun?” 

Crowley’s citizenship still depended on his successful and  _ real _ marriage to Aziraphale, so Mr. Tyler had been invited, begrudgingly, to the wedding. He was standing with a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. 

“I am,” he gestured to the tents and the barn. “It’s genuinely lovely here. Glad to see it used for a proper wedding celebration.” 

Mr. Tyler eyed up the couple and cleared his throat, again. 

“Mind if you answer some of the questions now? I’ll have to question some of your family and friends, too.” 

Just as Aziraphale was opening his mouth to object, Crowley put a hand in front of him. He honestly wanted to get this over with now, so they wouldn’t have to spend their entire honeymoon stressing about answering these silly questions correctly. 

“Of course,” Crowley led them back to the tent. The festivities had settled down now that everyone was full and sedated, with many guests opting to leave for walks along the lake. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Mr. Tyler opened his notebook. 

The next hour and a half were filled with some of the most ridiculous questions Crowley had ever been asked in his entire life. 

“What kind of deodorant does Aziraphale use?” 

“What kind of- uh Old Spice, I think?”

“What scent?”    


“Why? You in the market for a new brand to try? Also, have you ever  _ seen _ the scent names? They’re bloody ridiculous. I don’t know, put down Rock Hard Abs as the scent.” 

Mr. Tyler sighed. 

“What side of the bed does Aziraphale sleep on?” 

“Under me.” 

“That’s not an answer, Mr. Crowley.” 

“Well, it's mine. Would you like a demonstration?” 

More sighs. 

“When did you two start dating?” 

“Three months ago.” 

“Is that going well?” 

Crowley looked around at the reception tent. 

“What do  _ you _ think?” 

Aziraphale sat down for questions next. 

“I’m terribly sorry about him.” 

Mr. Tyler assured him it was fine. 

“Is Anthony a good driver?” 

“Oh good Heavens, no!” 

“He said he’s a good driver.” 

“I really wouldn’t take his word on that, if I were you.” 

“Does he snore?” 

“No, but he does drool a little bit and it’s very adorable,” Aziraphale’s eyes went huge as he realized what he said. “No, don’t write that down!” 

Tracy, Anathema, and Gabriel were sat down next. 

“What do you think of their relationship this time around?” 

“Oh, I loved Crowley from the start, just like a brother,” Gabriel stated. 

Anathema whipped her head around to him, confused, as Tracy rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“He has a very good aura, and theirs match up perfectly,” Tracy replied, turning away from Gabriel. 

“What colors are they?” Mr. Tyler asked. 

“Red and Blue,” Tracy said, happily. “Perfect matches.” 

Mr. Tyler sat Crowley down, again. 

“He said you drool in your sleep, does Aziraphale have any odd sleep quirks?” 

“He said  _ WHAT?  _ I do not drool!” 

“Mr. Crowley-” 

“Right, right. I guess I… perhaps… sometimes… a little bit of moisture can be found… comingfrommymouthasIsleep.” 

“And what about Aziraphale.” 

Crowley groaned. 

“Nothing. He’s a perfect sleeper. Very cuddly.” 

Shadwell was brought over at some point. 

“Do you think they make a good couple?” 

“I think the red haired laddie would do better wit someone a wee bit older.” 

“Oh? How can you tell?” Mr. Tyler practically banged his head on the table. 

“You can always tell from how many nipples they got.”

Finally, Mr. Tyler finished up the last of the interviews. He closed his notebook and walked over to Aziraphale and Crowley, who were finally eating something and sipping champagne, but they both stopped as soon as they saw Mr. Tyler approach. 

“Well?” Crowley asked, expectantly. 

“Well, we won’t have the official results until Monday,” Mr. Tyler started. Crowley found he was holding his breath at the silent “but.” “But, just from my notes and general experience, I’d say you’ll be perfectly fine.” 

Everyone burst into cheers and Crowley put his fingers on Aziraphale’s chin to bring him in for a sweet, champagne flavored kiss. They smiled at each other and when Aziraphale whispered, “I love you,” Crowley felt like his heart would surely burst. He reached for his glass and topped it off before holding it up to Aziraphale. 

“A toast?” Crowley asked, leaning in for another quick kiss. 

Aziraphale raised his own glass. 

“To what, my darling?”    


“To the world.” 

They clinked glasses and exchanged more kisses and everything was covered in a fuzzy, warm glow. Crowley was happy and, to top it all off, he had finally found his family after decades of being alone. 

Who knew that all it took to find this overwhelming happiness was a soft spoken assistant and a ridiculous proposal? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all again so much for your support! if you liked this, i'm going to start posting a Hallmark Christmas AU later this month, so be on the lookout if that's your thing! as always, comments, kudos, and likes are super appreciated 💖💖💖


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